Solo Mission
by Rye-bread
Summary: Based on the artwork of Ivymae at Deviant Art.  Takes place five years after the Midrift Adrift.  Kim and Ron are married. Kim is expecting.  And the fate of an old friend. an Unkillable story
1. Chapter 1: 5 years after the prom

This is based on a K.P. fanpic by ivymae457 at DeviantArt: 10:45 Solo Mission

Additional details are gleaned from the art of Richard Sirois at Richard's Page of Fanatism. Richard Harte, his sister Daphne, and Team Harte are based on Richard Lionheart, his sister Helen, and Team Heart...and of course "The Unkillables".

More details are gleaned from the art of Ivymae

**__**

ABOUT FIVE YEARS AFTER THE PROM

Rufus stood quietly on the mattress beside Ron. He sensed the wistfulness in the air.

Kim stood in the bedroom doorway. She liked to watch him dress almost as she liked to watch him undress. He belted the green cargo pants and sat on the edge of the bed to lace up the boots. He stood up to pull on the black turtleneck and sling the backpack on. He wasn't the skinny geek any more. He had come back from his year at Yamanuchi chiseled, his torso and limbs rippling with muscular definition He looked like Michaelangelo's David--except that her David was circumcised, she reminded herself.

Ron looked at her as she stood in the doorway, wearing his old shirt as a night shirt, the hallway light illumined her from behind, the red hair cascading past her shoulders, the obvious bulge of her belly; if anything pregnancy had only made her more beautiful, softer, more glowing; her eyes shown like green full moons.

Each noticed the glimmer of the wedding band on the other's left hand, and each felt the thrill of bliss. They never tired of it.

"So where are you going tonight?"

"Somewhere with Will; I think Global Justice is after Dementor."

"Ron--I just noticed; you're not wearing your battle suit."

"Nah--Wade has it for the five year-fifty thousand mile checkup."

"No force field, no biometric sensors--will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Ah, the good old days, wearing just the old mission suits; besides, there's the old 'Ron-factor'; Global Justice spent a lot of time and effort computing the probability of our winning streak was due to my presence."

"I know; I remember. Well, what about the Lotus Blade?"

"It's here; I'll summon it if I need it. I just think it's better it people don't see it all the time--keeping Yamanuchi secret and all that. Besides, Will Du's never seen it, and now's not the time to try and explain it to him." Ron sat back down on the edge of the bed and raised his arms to beckon her. "Now come here and gimme some love." She approached. He put his arms around her thighs and pulled her close; he lifted her night shirt. "Oh, yes, the pink bikini panties that drive me crazy--and that lovely belly button--definitely an outie." He cupped her buttocks with his hands and set his lips to her belly, just above her navel; "You're getting big; sure you'll make it to the due date?"

"I'm sure--unless you raspberry me again."

"_Raspberry_ you--when did I ever do that?" 

She sighed indulgently. "Think back--your parents' house, your room, our study date."

He looked mystified, and suddenly his face lit up."Oh my God--holy crap--I remember!"

She smirked. "You do, huh? That was five years ago today; and if you do that now, you might induce labor." She ran her fingers through his hair.

His face was a study in amazement. "_Five years? Today_? Where has the time gone?" He couldn't help it; an idiot grin attached itself to his face. "I don't know _what_ I was thinking that night--here you were, on my bed, in my room, ready to make out, and all I could think to do was that stupid trick. I'm lucky you didn't bash me with your book.'' He sighed. Oh, those gentle fingers, massaging his scalp; he began to keenly regret his promise to help Will Du on tonight's mission.

"I was_ so_ surprised; I was shocked speechless; I didn't even think about getting tweaked."

Kim leaned over and kissed his head. Ron lay his cheek against her belly. He sighed as she traced his ears with her fingers. She sighed as he rubbed his cheek against her skin. "Mr. Stoppable, you're stubbly. You're going to give me a whisker burn."

"Sorry, K.P. I haven't shaved since this morning."

"Don't be sorry--it feels good."

He looked up at her and grinned. "Listen--I hear a little voice: _nacos, nacos_." 

She playfully cuffed him. "No you don't--that's your stomach growling."

He raised his voice and addressed her belly. "Hello in there, son. How ya doin?"

"Still thinking about names?" she asked.

"Yeah--mine, your dad's, my dad's, my granddad, Rich's--"

A shadow of sadness passed over her face, and Ron realized he had said the wrong thing.

she looked dubious

"Could we keep it in the family? Maybe something to remind you of Rich?" she asked dubiously.

"Sure.'' Hastily he changed the subject. "I regret never having been in sports, but starting with this one, I'm gonna be a sports dad, a computer nerd dad, or a reading dad, or a scout dad, or whatever. Hear that, kid? I'm gonna be involved!"

"You'll be fine," Kim reassured him. "You've made a wonderful husband, you'll make a wonderful father."

He embraced her thighs again, drew her close, set his cheek on her belly, and sighed. "I love you, K.P. Ever since the daycare, ever since the treehouse, ever since we started the missions--." He looked up into her eyes. "I can't believe life has been so good to us. Suddenly he felt a kick.

She winced slightly and said, "Oohh!"

He looked up in surprise. "Was that an arm, or a leg?"

"I think a leg," she said.

"Hey, son, was that a soccer kick or a kung fu kick?" He felt another little shove, and she winced again. "Hah! my boy's got the mystical monkey power already!"

Ron looked up at her eyes; they were half-lidded, a beatific smile on her face. Like an earth mother she looked, infinitely wise, infinitely nurturing, so serene, so content. His friend Richard Harte was the mythology expert. He would have known which goddess or heroine Kim resembled.

He sighed and looked at his watch. "Damn--I gotta go!"

They both groaned. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and stood up, lifting her off her feet.

"Oh!" she gasped slightly, a little surprised. "Now don't hurt yourself!"

"Lifting you? Never! That long red hair gives me the strength of Samson."

"If I recall," she said dryly, "Samson was the one with the long hair, not his wife--or Delilah--or whoever that was. C'mon Samson; put me down."

He relaxed his embrace slightly and she slid down until he caught her waist. Her arms settled around his neck

"And please don't squeeze me," she added. "I'll have to pee in a minute."

In spite of her plea, he hugged her hard. How blessed he was, how blessed these days were, how glowing and full of glory she was. Ron felt his soul rising to heaven. "Blessed art Thou, oh Lord our God, King of the world," he murmured. "Set Your hedge of safety around my family, oh my Lord. Let you angels watch over them."

"Our Father Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name," Kim whispered. "Please protect my husband tonight. Bring him home safe to us." These little spontaneous prayers had become commonplace since Kim became pregnant, as each prayed after their own tradition.

Then their lips pressed together.

For a long moment they stood wrapped in each other's embrace and warmth.

A sudden knock came to front door downstairs and rude voice was heard muffled. "Hey, Stoppable, you were supposed be waiting outside!"

Both their faces fell. "Will Du," they said in unison.

Slowly, reluctantly, they disengaged their embrace. Kim sighed, and searched for something frivolous to say. "You know, you just gave me a hell of a wedgie, boy. My panties are halfway up my butt crack."

Ron half-smiled and took the hint. "Oh, I'd like to give you a lot more, girl."

"I'll be here when you get home," she whispered teasingly.

Hand in hand they walked downstairs, Rufus following close behind. At the front door, she kissed him fiercely. "I love you! Hurry back to me!"

"As fast as I can! I love you back!" Ron opened the front door while gazing into her eyes. "Take care of her, little buddy."

"Okay," Rufus squeaked.

There Will stood, hands on hips, fuming. "The villains are waiting, kids! The sooner we finish this mission, the sooner you two can play kissy-face."

Ron walked away, yearning in his eyes, still holding her hand. Kim leaned as far as she could from behind the door. Their arms stretched taunt, and as last their fingers separated.

Ron turned, giving Will Du his broadest grin. This sorry excuse for partner was so not going to spoil his mood. "Hey, Will," he said brightly, "conversing with the ornamental lawn dwarves? You know, the neighbors walk their dogs this time of night--gotta be careful that you don't step in a pile of droppings--or get your leg pissed on."

"Very funny! How long have you been waiting to use _that _lame comeback?" 

Kim called out after them. "Will, you use that stopwatch on my husband again, and I'll kick something of yours that'll make _you_ lame!" 

Will called back. "Update, _Kimmie_ ; thanks to your memo to Dr. Director, I been forbidden to use that item anymore!" 

Getting Will Du tweaked was almost worth the separation. Hurry back, my love, her eyes said plaintively. Wait up for me, his eyes answered.

And the two men boarded the waiting Global Justice hovercraft.


	2. Chapter 2: before the prom

Ol' Ryebread forgot the disclaimers in chapter one: Kim Possible & co. belong to Disney. Richard and Daphne Harte are my characters, based on Richard and Helen Lionheart, found at Richard's Page of Fanatism and Lionheartcartoons at Deviant Art.

JimVincible, thank you for the initial review. I caught the eye of a Calif. atty.? This Mich. surgical perioperative tech is flattered.

Alas, Will Du's role is strictly peripheral at this point--as will soon be apparent. The Muse--or plot bunny--"bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell...whither it goeth." (John 3.8) Stepping out on thin ice, here:

_**BEFORE THE MIDDLETON H.S. JR. SR. PROM**_

For two years Richard Leo Harte and his twin sister Daphne had attended Middleton High School, trying to act like normal students—normal for them. As children of a missionary couple in Japan, Leo and Mariah Bess Harte, they had already attended the boarding school of Master Goro Takayama, and then the Japanese public schools, referred to in this country as "exam hell" for their rigorous academic standards.

They were fraternal twins—not identical—but they behaved like identical twins. Because they were the only Americans--and almost the only Christians--in a social and scholastic setting, their bonds grew strong. Because of their faith, they did not thing it strange to pray before meals; in fact, this time together, and the ritual of meals together had been their coping mechanism, their sanctuary against loneliness; Master Goro had encouraged it; he recognized that, like the traditional Japanese tea ceremony, it built closeness and fostered spirituality.

The family had moved to America following the death of Mrs. Harte. She had lingered for several years after exposure to nerve gas in a terrorist attack against Tokyo subway commuters, finally succumbing to kidney failure.

The two children were already academic prodigies, multilingual and capable of competing academically at a college--or grad school--level, but they attended American public school just to round out their education—in Upperton, ironically, where their father had grown up.

Richard transferred to Middleton High School late in his freshman year and enrolled in the art program. Daphne transferred in sophomore year; she edged out Justine Flanner as the best science student in the class.

They behaved at Middleton High as they had behaved in Japan. They were bright, quiet, respectful of their teachers, hung out together, prayed before their meals—and stuck out like a sore thumb.

In Middleton, the practice earned them cruel treatment from the Food Chain. It marked them as odd, fanatical. The queen of the Food Chain, Bonnie Rockwaller, had her fun. She began by pointing out their appearance; both dressed conservatively and wore wire rim glasses. "OMG, they _look _alike!" And Kim Possible who rarely agreed with Bonnie about anything, had to agree on this.

Bonnie struggled to find just the right demeaning nickname for them. "They look like--like--" And Kim finished Bonnie's thought for her (some would say that Bonnie needed all the help she could get in that regard.)

"--Like bookends?" And so, in a most offhand manner, Kim therefore did something so uncharacteristic of her, so unlike her, that one day she would look back and hardly believe that she had done it; she actively participated in the Game of the Food Chain: disrespecting the less popular student, figuratively devouring them, as it were.

"The Bookends"; Bonnie loved it; the name spread like wildfire; it would haunt the Harte twins for the rest of their high school careers. Bonnie went further; knowing Richard's status as an art major, he was called "the Artist". Daphne's nickname was even more cruel.

Daphne was very serious, reserved, and devout. She did not flirt, swear, or party. She dressed sharply but modestly; no cleavage, no bare midriff; she hardly bared her arms, or her legs below the knee. She favored stylish pantsuits, slack and jacket ensembles, with high collar dress shirts. In fact, she dressed like a business professional, as compared to Richard's more casual clothing. Her golden hair, which had been her mother's pride and joy, was cut short, at the nape of the neck. She took pride in her prim, somewhat severe appearance.

Bonnie and the Maddog Cheerleaders brainstormed what to call her; names like Mary Poppins, Maria Von Trapp, and Barbara Bush came up. They finally decided on something simple: "the Librarian".

To add insult to injury Bonnie concocted a vile rumor, not because she thought it was true, but because she thought it was funny: why Harte twins hung out together so much; not because they were in a new social setting, but because they were incestuous

The Food Chain thought it knew everything there was to know about "the Bookends", but Richard Harte was studying something as keenly as the Food Chain had studied them: Team Possible.

Everyone knew about the Maddog Cheerleader who could save the world, and her dopey sidekick who had a naked mole rat for a pet. Many people even knew about the computer terminal in Kim's locker, and the young computer nerd who always had a giant soft drink cup, who was the webmaster for Kim's website ("I Can Do Anything!"), and was an ace inventor: Wade Load. No one knew that the young computer nerd had a backup, a partner, who was practically his equal at inventing: Daphne Mei Harte.

Everyone knew about Kim's parents, Mom and Dad Dr. P., who embarrassed and exasperated her by their constant love, enthusiasm, and cheerfulness, and Kim's brothers, who exasperated her with their high tech pranks. No one knew about Mom Dr. P.'s terminal patient, Mom Harte, who had come to America to see her in a last futile attempt to see medical treatment. No one knew that the two women had become the best of friends, writing to each other for the rest of Mrs. Harte's all-too-brief life.

Everyone knew that Rich was an art major, a nerd, a dork, a bookworm who liked to quote Shakespeare, a born-again Christian, a pastor's kid who could quote the Bible, a member of the school chorus who liked old Hollywood musicals. About the only friend he had was Felix Renton, who felt sorry for him; the physically disabled student who knew the sting of gossip, and so took the trouble to know the socially disabled student.

No one knew Rich's mind and spirit. No one knew the true extent of the martial art training or abilities of Rich and his sister, which very nearly rivaled those of Kim Possible. No one was even remotely aware of--Team Harte. They operated at Wade Load's side, out of the line of sight, keeping the power-mad masterminds under surveillance.

Rich felt what he considered to be a divine calling, a noble urge, a magnificent obsession: to be a knight, to rescue those in danger, to prevent from happening to others what had happened to his mother. It was for that reason that he studied Team Possible.

With their academic records and ability, both Daphne and Rich could have already been in college, but Rich wanted to take the next step; to bring Team Harte out into the light of day; to move from surveillance to action; and so they observed Kim and Ron.

He wanted to reach out to them, to make their two causes a common cause, even joint missions; the union of Teams Possible and Harte.

There was a problem: friction between Kim and Daphne. To say they were not friends would be an understatement. They resented--worse than that--detested each other. Daphne thought that Kim, not Bonnie was the mind behind the Food Chain, the source of all the rumors. She was also aware--both Harte twins has seen it almost immediately--how far Ron Stoppable's feelings for Kim went. Just as Felix felt a natural empathy for Rich, Daphne felt a natural empathy for Ron, and it grieved her that Kim should share missions, social life--in short, everything--with Ron--everything but her heart--that belonged to Josh Mankey.

Kim for her part sensed Daphne's hostility; she attributed it to a "holier-than-thou" attitude: the studious church-going girl versus the popular cheerleader, the modest versus the midriff-baring wardrobes.

It was classic misunderstanding; each thought the other despised them for some other reason. Rich was hard put to persuade Daphne to bear patiently with the high school sandbox mentality--for the sake of his dream--and the departed spirit of their mother.

So they bided their time.


	3. Chapter 3: the week of the prom

JimVincible, you know what they say about the glass of cold water.(not half-empty or half-full) Proverbs 25:25: as cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.

JamesCormac, I hope I meet (& maybe exceed) your expectations.

whitem & Ace Ian Combat: 1 update, coming up

My characters Richard and Daphne are intended to be people of letters. When I have a character quoting a proverb, I like to include the author. I always thought that Mark Twain first said "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I am unable to confirm that. I checked out the proverb--and many others at the new dictionary of cultural literacy at Italian proverb is found at reference to "The Mystery of Edwin Drood" was found at dickens. Shakespeare references are my little cd The Complete Shakespeare Collection by Corel that I got at a local dollar store.

the final scene in this chapter is a scene from Kim Possible: So The Drama.

Rich, Daphne, and Cyndi Larsen are mine. I will let Disney have everything else.

**__**

THE WEEK OF THE MIDDLETON HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR-SENIOR PROM

For two years Richard Leo Harte and his twin sister Daphne had attended Middleton High School. For two years they had studied Team Possible. It was like having front row and center seats. They had seen a hirsute Kim in battle with Montgomery Fiske when everyone thought it was a new cheer routine. They had seen a time when Kim acted like Ron and Ron acted like Kim, even shoving the Cheerleading squad captain out of the way and winning a competition.

For two years they had worked side by side with Wade Load. Daphne would often be at a terminal, managing incoming data for Wade. The double irony was this: first, she was often in the Load home, in Wade's own computer lab, just out of Kim's sight when she called Wade (Daphne tried hard not to smirk when she heard Kim's traditional "Hey, Wade, what's the sitch?" greeting); second, Wade hardly needed her help, in her opinion, not knowing that Wade equally admired her high tech talent.

Team Harte did recon work for Wade. Sometimes Rich, sometimes Daphne, often both, would comb the deserted lairs of the Team Possible foes for clues as to the next lair, the next plot, the next take-over-the-world scheme. Rich would even shadow Kim and Ron on some of their missions. He had even adopted the mission suit.

"Ricky, I have a bad feeling. What if you're seen? How are you going to explain?" asked Daphne as they conferred one day in Wade's computer lab.

Rich shrugged."'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery'?"

"Aren't you tired of just watching? We could be in the field, _doing_ something! I feel like Brutus and Cassius, we 'peep about to find ourselves dishonorable graves." 

Wade looked puzzled; Rich explained: "It's a quote from Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar'; like we're in hiding."

"Like it's Ground Hog Day, and we're waiting for six more weeks of winter!" retorted Daphne. "That offer from Dr. Director is still good. We could call our own shots. We wouldn't even have to work with Agent Du-rag."

As with Kim, Team Harte had been approached for membership in Global Justice; and as with Kim, Special Agent Will Du had left a poor impression--but that another story. Daphne's sarcastic nickname for him never failed to bring smiles from both Wade and Rich.

"Sis, John Milton said, 'They also serve who only stand and wait'."

"The Italians say, 'Batti il ferro quando e caldo'."

"'Strike while the iron is hot'," Rich explained again. "It's also a quote from Charles Dickens' 'The Mystery of Edwin Drood'."

Wade sighed quietly; he could write a programming language or build an electronic surveillance device by the time he was toilet-trained, but when these two started tossing proverbs and obscure literary quotes, he felt like an ignoramus. What he liked about them, though, was the same thing he liked about Team Possible; the respect. They made him feel like one of their own, not a pre-teen post-adult agoraphobic super-IQ lab specimen.

"Guys," he ventured, "There's still the problem with Erik. He's not on the radar--anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

The tension at Middleton High could be felt. It could be cut with a knife. It had a name: Erik Drake, the new student, and Kim's new crush.

The gossip buzzed in the halls: would Kim Possible actually choose this new kid over her own lifelong friend and mission partner for a Prom date? Apparently, the answer was yes.

Rich felt tension, too--for a different reason. At his request, both Wade and Daphne had employed search engines and scoured databases. Erik had no record of live birth, no social security number, no transcripts from his former school, no last known address, either for him or his alleged "father". For that reason, he had called Team Harte to a council of war.

Daphne protested. "Ricky, he's not our concern. Kim is just setting herself up for a fall. I'm starting to agree with what you've been saying; something big is about to happen with Drakken and Shego. All the signs are there: kidnapping Nakasumi, kidnapping Dr. Possible, all for no apparent motive. Let's take our findings to Global Justice. We could bypass Will Du. Better yet: we could take Drakken down ourselves--bring Team Harte into the mainstream." Daphne relished the thought of the shock _that_ would cause Kim Possible. "I agree that it looks suspicious, Erik turning up at this particular time. I'm especially sorry for Ron; it really seemed like he and Kim were drawing closer once they got past that mood-shifting implanted chip incident. But I don't think that Erik means anything" 

Daphne viewed Kim's whole behavior in the framework of her own deep faith, in the terms of a religious analogy. As the Savior asked: what shall it profit a man--or woman--if they gain the whole world but lose their soul? Ron was Kim's soul, and for her to cast him aside just to be tight with the world--or the newest hunk--or the Food Chain--or whatever--was like deliberately losing one's faith

Rich countered. "I have to disagree. Erik's sudden appearance--and the effect he's having on Kim--is just too handy for the opposition. The Duke of Wellington studied Napoleon Bonaparte; Scipio Africanus studied Hannibal; I'm studying Erik Drake. Remember Sun Tsu: 'he will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight...he will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared...hence the saying: if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained, you will suffer a defeat..."

Daphne remembered. "The Art Of War" by Sun Tsu had been required reading when she and Rich were students at the academy of Master Goro Takayama. They were younger than Wade when they had studied the ancient Chinese book.

Wade interjected, "I have to agree with both of you on different things. Forget for a minute that you two are driving me crazy with all the Caesar-Shakespeare and Italian-batty-iron-dudes and Wellington-Napoleon-African-Sunrise whatever. I've known Kim for a long time, and I can tell you two things about her; her crushes and her tweaks. First, the fact that she's stuck on Erik--for her that's typical. It's a Popular thing, and he's a cute new face She was even hung up on Sr. Sr. Jr.--at least for a few minutes--after he sent her a dozen roses. And don't forget about Ron and all his crushes--Tara, Zita, Amelia--I'm sure there's more."

Wade continued: "And second: her tweaks; picture yourself coming up to Kim and Ron and telling them that you guys--the "Bookends"--sorry, nothing personal--are their secret allies, that you've been spying them for a couple years and you want to join up. Kim hates interference, whether it's from her parents, or Bonnie, or her brothers. Imagine how she's going to react to you two. Ron will be like: 'You guys do missions too? Well, _Boo-Yah!_' And Kim will be like: **_'Ronnnnnnn!'_** You get my drift." 

Rich smiled in spite of himself. Wade's impersonations of both Ron and Kim were absolutely on target.

"Ricky--I'm sorry, but--this concern over Kim and Ron and Erik--does this have to do with Cynthia Larsen?" Immediately Daphne regretted saying anything.

It all happened before Rich and Daphne transferred to Middleton High. Cyndi Larsen was Upperton High's equivalent of Kim Possible: Student Council, school committees, civic awards, captain of the cheerleading squad, martial arts black belt--even her own website. She was a junior and Rich was a freshman. The age difference hardly mattered. His poise, his learning, his emotional depth--he carried himself like a college grad student. He swept her off her feet, and she captured his heart. As a sign of his commitment, he revealed his deepest heart to her. He held nothing back: the death of his mother, the boarding school of Master Goro in an ancient monestary-fortress-palace, the formation of "Team Harte", and the dream: what Rich called the Great Task.

A favorite book of Rich's was "The Scarlett Pimpernel" by Baroness Orczy. It was an old Victorian melodrama, not great literature, but it expressed Rich's fondest hope: to be able to rescue those who had no hope, the innocents who were being abducted by the political terrorists, the crime syndicates, who were being wiped out by genocide or starvation and disease in refugee camps. The book was about a man--an English nobleman, Sir Percy Blakeney, a vain silly man who loved to throw lavish parties--a member in good standing of the Food Chain--by day. By night he crossed the English Channel and rescued those who were in danger of being guillotined during the French Revolution. In his secret life he was know only by the secret name, the name of a flower: the Scarlett Pimpernel.

To see the fire in Rich's eyes and hear the passion in his voice; to feel the iron of his convictions; it had long since won Daphne's heart, and their father's heart. If only it would win Cyndi's heart.

If only Cyndi had been a little more like Kim; she and Rich might be doing missions now; Team Harte, Cynthia and Richard Harte. Daphne would gladly relegate herself to a back-up role, as Wade was doing for Kim and Ron, for the sake of a brother she so admired. As Rich would sometimes say, quoting Tolkien, a Quest often stands on the edge of a knife; stray but a little and it falls, to the ruin of all; yet hope remains while all remain true.

If only Cyndi had remained true. If only she believed more, in the ultimate triumph of goodness, in Rich's love for her, in her love for him. It was not a matter of someone else. Cyndi herself had said that there had never been anyone like him, or would ever be again. But she did not feel the noble urge, the magnificent obsession like he did. Rich was like Don Quixote, steeped in legends and mythology, believing in the Quest. Cyndi was not Don Quixote, or Sancho Panza, or even Samson Carrasco the enlightened skeptic; she was merely like Antonia Quixana, the baffled niece of the mad knight. "Rich, you're so special, but you're just so intense--I'll always love you--goodbye." And she burst into tears and fled his presence.

It shattered him completely. Cyndi moved away, and despite her promise to write, he never heard from her again. Daphne kept track of her as she accompanied her father; his work took him to all the exotic locales: Paris, Rome, Singapore, Sydney--but Rich expressed not a grain of interest. On a single occasion he spoke: "If a quest stand on a knife's edge, might not a gentle nudge, a helping hand, be permissible?"

The pain in her brother's eyes and his sudden stony silence; he would never be over Cyndi Larsen. Daphne realized anew what she had realized before: in the two years they had been attending Middleton High, a new desire had grown in her brother's heart, as strong as the desire to become a "Scarlett Pimpernel": the desire to see Kim and Ron unite. Despite Kim's scorn of the Harte twins, Rich had come to care for deeply for her and Ron, for their happiness. He believed that they were destined for each other. Daphne could tell without a word: Rich was praying for them; her sweet, idealistic, irritating, impractical brother, whom she loved above all others since the death of their mother, this hopelessly outdated hero in a modern world; he saw himself in Ron; he saw Cyndi in Kim; and he was as committed to them as Daphne had been to him and Cyndi. He was resolved; God willing, he would be a guardian angel, a matchmaker, whatever it took. He would be the gentle nudge, the helping hand for Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable.

"Ricky," she said gently, "I'm not sure I feel like you do, but why don't we give this a week? If Drakken has another run of his usual bad luck, or if Erik turns out to be just another one of Kim's infatuations, you can just owe me a Bueno Nacho Grande Meal. And if it turns out like you think it will, we'll go for broke. We'll join Little Miss Red, or whatever."

The gleam came back to his deep brown eyes--or was it the glint of light off his wire rim glasses? "Thanks, sis. I have this feeling it won't take a week. The Prom is in a few days. That's the night Drakken's little sleeper agent makes his move."

"Does this mean our 'war council' is done?" Wade asked.

Rich shrugged. "Looks like it."

"Well, since Daphne mentioned Bueno Nacho, could you guys drive over and pick up a taco and super-sized soda for me? And get what you want for yourselves. Me--or Ma--will pay for it all when you get back."

"Our pleasure, dude."

It was the next day at school that Rich's resolve to wait crumbled to dust.

Rich rode his mountain bike to school with his art supplies strapped to his back. He saw a figure in the distance in the traffic lane. As he approached, he recognized Ron Stoppable on his scooter. This was nothing remarkable. The scooter's top speed was hardly faster than a brisk run Today, however, was slower. Ron's head hung down. Rich could feel his hurt.

A motorcycle was approaching from behind, by the sound. Rich moved closer to the curb. He hoped that the cyclist would be considerate of Ron.

There was no oncoming traffic. The cycle passed safely in the other lane. It was Erik Drake. He flashed Rich a friendly smile. Kim was riding behind, her arms around his waist, clinging tightly, her bright hair in a pony tail streaming from under her helmet. She waved as they passed Ron.

"Hi, Ron," she said lyrically. Ron waved half-heartedly. Was it Rich's imagination? Erik sped up and Ron slowed down. The cycle and Kim's hair receded into the distance.

The scooter slowed almost to a crawl. Ron's head bowed even lower. Was that weeping Rich heard coming from Ron?

Rich stopped pedaling. Don't pass Ron, he told himself, don't let him know you're here. Let the guy have some dignity. Rich turned and rode to a side street without a backward glance. He took an alternate route to school.

In a morning class he heard Kim and Monique whispering excitedly several seats behind him.

"--_Girl_--you mean you haven't _kissed_ him yet?" 

"Well--I want it to be right--special."

"Kim Possible--you are _im_possible! You are so remedial! Why do you think people rent hotel rooms on prom night? To shake hands?"

"Monique!"

"I mean it, girl! Kissing should be a done deal at this point--water under the bridge!."

And without knowing it, Rich realized that he had snapped his pencil in half in his clenched fist.

The substitute teacher's voice suddenly spoke sharply. "Ladies, the bell has rung. Knowles, was your discussion pertinent to the class topic?

"No, Mr. Barkin."

"Possible, would you like to continue your discussion in detention?"

"No, Mr. Barkin."

"Harte, you seem upset. Is anything wrong.?"

"No, Mr. Barkin."

"Good. Then if I may have your undivided attention..."

During lunch break he saw Erik pushing Kim at the swings. He saw Ron trying to operate the see-saw by himself It broke his heart. It was time to act. It was time for the gentle nudge.

Would this jeopardize his hoped-for union of Teams Possible and Harte? He hardly cared. What's the use of a sense of chivalry if you can't act on it?

He signed Ron Stoppable's Bueno Nacho petition--and dared to offer personal advice. There were two signatures on the list: Kim Possible's and his own; he pointed to the name above his. "Stop obsessing over the size of the portions and kiddie toys; you and I--and everyone in school--knows what's really eating at you."

He spoke words of counsel to Ron, that no one walking past could hear.

Ron reacted in shock; being talked to by the Artist. He stared into a pair of brown eyes, not unlike his own. That voice, so warm and full of confidence; if there was anyone lower on the Food Chain than himself, it was this guy and his sister. Even Malcolm Nevius, the Everlot kid, got more respect, and the odd thing was, it didn't seem to bother him. Ron had never taken the trouble to talk to him because Kim never had either. Here was a kindred soul. _Confide, _his heart told him 

But Ron hung his head dejectedly. "Dude, thanks for caring, but it's too late," he mumbled. "I'm losing everything I ever cared about."

No, you're not, Rich silently vowed, _not if we can help it--my friend--my brother._


	4. Chapter 4: the day of the prom

The Shakespeare quote is from "The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra."

I found the abridged text of Sun Tsu's "The Art of War" at the Project Gutenberg website. I highly recommend it for free online classical books

the usual spiel: Kim & co. are Disney's, Rich & Daphne are mine, Shakespeare and Sun Tsu belong to the ages.

_**THE DAY OF THE MIDDLETON HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR-SENIOR PROM**_

Ron had not acted on Rich's advice. Well, what did Rich expect? The man was utterly beaten down.

Rich was about to do the bravest deed of his life--make that the stupidest, most foolhardy, he told himself. He waited outside the gym after school. There went Kim and Tara.

"Kim!" he called. Both girls turned and looked at him curtly.

"Ignore him," Kim whispered. They continued walking.

"Kimberly Ann!" he called more loudly.

Kim halted in her tracks and slowly turned. Her green eyes smoldered, and her lips were a thin line.

Tara glanced fearfully over her shoulder and scurried away. She wanted to be nowhere near the vicinity of the famous Possible temper.

"What _you_ want?" Kim asked rudely.

There's no backing out now, thought Rich. "I have something to tell you--about your boyfriend--and your partner."

Kim slowly approached him, glaring angrily. So, the stuck-up pastor's kid speaks at last; the brother of the stuck-up sister who must have one of those acolyte-thingys shoved up her ass. The school had a number of these Bible-thumpers. Kim had always assumed that he would one day lay a tract on her, or exhort her to repent, or picket for prayer in school, or something like that. But it was only for the venal purpose of spreading lies about those closest to her. What was he about say? That Jews--and therefore Ron--were Christ-killers? That her boyfriend had gotten somebody pregnant?

Rich was fascinated by her response and the emotions he felt. He was exhilarated. The fact that he was a head taller did not appear to phase her in the least. Well, of course not. She was Kim Possible, crime-fighter, super-heroine. He had seen her flatten a half-dozen goons in the news videos.

Kim would make this short and sweet. She clipped off her words. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say--not about my partner's religion--not in any rumors about my boyfriend--not in you getting me 'saved'--understand?"

Rich felt giddy. Was this what it felt like to be drunk? He continued recklessly. "Kim--you've missed the boat--you're ignoring the love of your life."

Kim's whole body trembled with rage. She had just had a painful talk with Ron about this very thing the other night in the treehouse. And he had agreed with her--hadn't he? It was time to grow up, move on. They weren't kids, anymore. Besides, she had _waited_ for Ron. She had _assured_ him; it was more than a crush, more than the Moodulator (damn that little computer chip) that were still fireworks--and his silence was her answer. She had cried herself to sleep with disappointment. Yes, it was past time for moving on.

She slammed her book on the floor. _"How **dare** you--who the **hell** do you think you **are?"**_

Rich was astonished; how vibrant she was, how full of life! "Do you know what's in front you, Kim? Do you know what you're missing?"

He was smiling! Kim was infuriated! "What do _you_ know about what I'm missing? You don't know a thing about me, Mr--Artist!"

Rich marveled. No wonder Ron loved her! No wonder Drakken trembled in his boots! "Erik's a pretty face. Do you know his parents, his family, do you know anything about him?"

This was frustrating! Kim didn't even know this guy's real name! And he was_--taunting _her! She wanted to _paste_ him!

"You know Ron like you know yourself--"

Kim knew what people were saying--poor Ron, Kimmie's ignored him again--

"--You know his family like you know your your family--"

--And of all the people in school, only _he_ had the _nerve_ to confront her!

"--You know his likes, his dislike, his habits. You know his family--"

Enough! She had enough! "Stop bothering me! Leave me the hell alone!"

Kim covered her ears with her hands, turned, and stalked angrily away.

Rich wiped his brow. His face and shirt were soaked with sweat; a full strength dose of Kim Possible, undiluted; it was a heady draught. It was as Shakespeare had said of Cleopatra: "Rare Egyptian!...Age cannot stale her, nor custom whither her infinite variety."

"I thought I might find you here!"

Daphne's voice, behind him; he was busted.

He turned. Her face was not stern, only sad. "How did you find me?" he asked.

"I know my brother. 'Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead'. 'Take the bull by the horns'. When I tell him to proceed, he sits on his hands. When I advise caution, he nods quietly and then charges in gung-ho. I just followed Kim's voice. It was set at full volume. Tell me, did that turn out like you wanted? "

"Not really. All your good advice falling on my deaf ears--sorry, sis."

"Ricky--I know that chivalrous mind and heart of yours. It's a better guide than I'll ever be."

Rich sighed wearily. "I don't know about that. I've probably ruined any chance Ron has with Kim. I've surely ruined any chance of Team Harte joining Team Possible. I might have even ruined Kim's prom night."

Daphne laughed. "I don't mind the last one. C'mon home, little brother. We'll put our formals on and put in an appearance at the prom. That'll really set the school on its ear."

"I can't--yet. I promised Felix that I would meet with him. We're working on a project together."

"Okay--see you later."

In a short time, Rich was in a class room working on a layout for a school poster; his mind was wandering. Had he been too harsh with Kim? Could he have been more diplomatic? Obviously he had upset her. Doubtless she would go to her boyfriend and tell him every thing.

Where was Felix? He should have been here a half-hour ago. The project had been his idea. It was something Felix wanted to do, a series of posters to promote awareness of the disabled, to encourage barrier-free construction, to discourage bias. Rich was gratified to be asked to participate. Besides Daphne, Felix Renton was about his only friend at Middleton High. Rich wanted him here for feedback--

--when he heard a noise behind him; the hairs on his neck stood up; he turned around--

I might have known, he said to himself: Erik Drake was standing in the doorway--with a deadly grin. "Rich; you've been checking up on me; your sister and Wade Load have been looking at my confidential records; tsk, tsk; very unethical for a preacher's kid; and then you tried to talk to both Ron and Kim. Dude, do we have a problem?"

Rich remembered what Sun Tsu had said: if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

Erik slowly entered the room. Rich slowly backed away, keeping the desks between himself and Erik

Erik worked his way to the instructor's desk. Like a striking snake, he grasped the back of the heavy desk chair; and with the blink of an eye he flung it at Rich.

In another blink of an eye, Rich's foot shot up and splintered the chair; and they both circled each other like beasts of prey, Erik with clenched fists and Rich with bladed hands.

Rich was thankful for the martial arts training Master Goro had given him many years ago. It had saved his life before and would do so today.

Erik's face wore a snarl. His eyes shone with a mad light. No one who saw him now would have recognized Kim's handsome boyfriend.

Rich's self-doubt was gone. He had been right; Erik was dangerous. Furthermore, Erik was somehow aware of Wade and Daphne's online investigation.

Rich's heart surged with delight. The subterfuges were gone; no more friendly new student, no more dorky art major. Let the battle be waged here and now--

They both heard a noise. Felix Renton was in the doorway, his face aghast.

Erik resumed his friendly pretense. "Wow--will you look at this chair? Student vandals everywhere. Hey Rich--we'll settle this later."

Count on it, thought Rich. So--Erik had revealed his hand. Someone on the other side had tipped Erik off to the online probe; someone with cyber-programming capacity? Shego? perhaps; Drakken? not likely; the man's talent was building deathrays, not strategy.; Erik himself? it didn't matter anymore; things were past that point. Why did Erik wait until now to make a move? because Rich had tried to tell Kim. This was a sting operation, and Kim was its target, and zero hour was tonight. Get the tux, out, Rich; put on the cuff links and bow tie; shine those shoes and put a flower in that lapel. Team Harte is going to a school prom.

Erik slid his way past Felix's wheelchair; the other cringed at his approach. "Hey, Felix, how's it going?"

When Erik was gone, Felix babbled, panic-stricken. "Rich--I was coming to help you--that project--I saw Erik--I heard furniture breaking--what the f--_Rich--what kind of psycho is taking Kim to the prom?"_

Rich knelt and looked him in the eye. "Felix--I'm telling you with all the sincerity I have--this didn't happen--you've got to trust me."

That warm sincere gaze. Rich had always been on the level. "Okay--but Rich--I saw you move like Jackie Chan--like Kim--who are _you_?"

"I'm one of the good guys."

There was a change in Felix's face, a calmness. "Rich--with Kim and Ron around, I've seen enough supers --are you one?"

"I hope so--I'm about to find out."

"I trust you."

"Thank you--you're a good man, Felix Renton. You wouldn't make a bad super yourself."

"Rich--this isn't done, is it?"

Rich shook his head.

"What's gonna happen?"

Rich smiled. "Hopefully, the good guys win. Wish us luck--and Godspeed."

_He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight...he will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks...he will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared. Hence the saying: if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles...if you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle. (Sun Tsu, The Art Of War)_

Later that night was the Middleton High School Junior-Senior Prom. Kim Possible attended with her date, Erik Drake. Daphne Harte attended with her escort and twin brother, Richard Harte.

Later still that night, Dr. Drakken unleashed his Enlarged Diablos on the world--but Ron Stoppable the partner came through for Kim--and Kim Possible the girlfriend came through for Ron--and Team Harte came through for Team Possible.

But that is another story.


	5. Chapter 5: one year after the prom

Dear readers,

At this late date I should explain something. When I first started this story, I meant it to be a one-shot, based on IvyMae's "10:45 Solo Mission" at DeviantArt. Kim is pregnant, wearing Ron's pullover as a nightshirt, Ron is dressed in a mission suit, kissing her bulging belly, they're both wearing wedding bands, Kim has the content facial expression, yadda yadda. I liked the picture.

But the plot bunny, my Muse, my obsession with Richard Lionheart intruded. My original fic, "Kim and the Lionheart", the story of a doer of missions who was both Ron's best friend and a contender for Kim's affections, was inspired by "Kimmie-Kiss" at Richard's Page of Fanatism and stories like "The Prisoner of Zenda" (check it out at the Project Gutenberg website; it's a melodrama, a real potboiler--something worthy of Edgar Rice Burroughs or Robert K. Howard.) I wanted a story of noble, sacrificial, unrequited love (break out the violins). My original plotline involves Richard Harte becoming the Coeur de Lion (French for Lionheart) a lofty swashbuckling figure who goes about rescuing the innocent (the Scarlett Pimpernel, Zorro, etc.) If you check out the Sirois artwork, however, you will see that Richard Lionheart, as he gets older, starts carrying some serious sidearms (like the Punisher, or Mad Max)--oops--a spoiler. Mustn't give away the surprise.

In short, dear readers, I should have tacked on a disclaimer. The first chapter does not represent a current plotline, but only a vignette, a glimpse; maybe another time. Jim Vincible, I hope I haven't lost you. Ace Ian Combat, the Lionheart _will_ roar--very soon.

The content of this chapter is based on the pictures found at Richard's Page of Fanatism.

Kim, et. al. belong to Disney. Rich, et. al. belong to me. London, et.al. belong to the U.K. The movie quotes are from the Internet Movie Database.

For more on "The Scarlet Pimpnerel", check out Wikipedia and Project Gutenberg.

The flashbacks are in italics. The written correspondence is underlined. The movie dialog is in bold. Confused? hope not.

This is one loooong chapter--very wordy--it got away from me--& I don't know if it would work to break it up; lotsa details; if you can't follow it, let me know.

_**ONE YEAR AFTER THE PROM**_

Team Possible was on the plane bound for London. Kim and Ron lounged together, alternately napping or gazing out the window.

Rich was several seats up. He had gotten his books out. Kim could see the tousled brown hair and the untameable cowlick as he was poring over his book--as he always did. In his backpack were always the same three books: his Bible, "The Scarlet Pimpernel" by Baroness Orczy, and "A Tale Of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens--except "The Scarlet Pimpernel" now lived in _her_ backpack.

Kim would not soon forget the day she first met Rich--not passing him in the hall of the high school, barely noticing him--not the terrible argument they had the day of the Junior-Senior Prom. They met after the Prom, after the night of the Little Diabloes.

_There Rich and Daphne were in mission suits. How odd that was, how dreamlike, as if they were seeing themselves mirrored in the Harte twins, the "Bookends"--except the nickname, which Kim had inadvertently made up and Bonnie loved to use, never passed Kim's lips again. Rich was dressed just like Ron, except for his wire rim glasses._

_Daphne's mission suit, of course, did not include the crop top, as Kim wore. In fact, she added a khaki jacket, still the Little Miss Prim._

_But meeting Rich--his silence suddenly didn't look dorky or dweebish; it looked dignified--kingly. She swore that when he shook her hand, he was going to bend to one knee and kiss it. And the look in those deep brown eyes. The fond gaze in Ron's eyes could cause her to melt. But the look in Rich's eyes--what could she call it--adoration? That look imparted a sense of silent awe._

_With Ron, it was different. They hit it off like twin brothers. They started a group called "G.A.D"; "Goofballs And Dorks". It was a weekly exercise in insanity; one day each week (it was never the same day) they would play dress-up._

_In the early school year, during September, while it was still a sweltering 90 degrees outdoors, they would wear parkas and ski boots. In the dead of January, with ten foot Colorado snowdrifts, they would wear sarongs and leis._

_They also dressed as ethnic minorities; Gypsies, native Americans, Mexicans with sombreros and serapes, Frenchmen with berets, English with derbies and umbrellas, Chinese with conical hats, Netherlanders with wooden shoes--it was all very politically incorrect._

_Invariably, if or when Barkin saw them, he would send them home and demand that they return without the extravagant absurd costumes That was part of the game, avoiding Barkin for as long as they could. Why they never suffered detention over this absolutely mystified Kim._

_Kim looked toward Ron with indulgent love. Rich was to Ron almost like a human Rufus, acting more intelligent than Ron--sometimes. They were best of buddies. In fact, on one of their Goofball And Dork days, they were dressed as naked mole rats: pink leotards and fake incisors. It made Kim cringe._

_The pink leotards were a leftover from Ballerina Day, which they wore with tutus, pirouetting through the halls. Kim especially cringed that day._

_And the way they greeted each other. They would high-five and Ron would say "BON-diggety!" Then they would low-five and Rich would say loudly "BO-dacious!" They would bump each other's fists and Ron would shout "BAD-ical!" Last of all, they would both thump their fists on their chests like gorillas and bellow like a couple football players, "BOOOHHH--YAAAHHH!" No matter that she knew what was coming, no matter that she would try to prepare herself. Kim would always jump with a startled yelp, "Eeep!" They would laugh uproariously and slap each other on the back. _

_But it was good. He had found a soul brother, a man after his own heart, someone to "never be normal" with. In fact, they called each other "Bro". An orthodox Jew and a born again Christian; a study slacker and a Renaissance scholar_

_Daphne could see, too. It was good for Rich. He was moving past the death of their mother, and at last past the painful breakup with Cyndi Larsen._

_Rich had a profound effect on Kim, also. His considerable artistic and literary knowledge got her interested in literature, and they discussed books by the hours, something she had never done--with anyone. Shopping with Monique, missions (and romance) with Ron, boys (and things) with Mom, but books? never--until Rich._

Kim had borrowed "The Scarlet Pimpernel", and had read it. Ron was asleep. She stood and walked up to Rich. "I have some questions about the book, Prof. Can I pick your brain?"

Rich slid over. "Sure, my teacher's pet--my fav student. Take a seat next to the dusty old scholar."

"Okay, I think I've got it straight--this Englishman nobleman--"

"Sir Percy Blakeney."

"That name sounds so gay."

Rich laughed. "I almost agree."

"Let me finish! Now he's a friend of the Prince of Wales, goes to parties, has a big house, lots of expensive clothes, marries a trophy wife, and people think he's an airhead."

"Yes."

"This is so like the Food Chain."

"Exactly."

"But he has a secret identity: the Scarlet Pimpernel. He and his friends smuggle people out of France before they're arrested and sent to the guillotine. It's like they're Team Pimpernel and they're doing missions!"

Rich nodded. In moments like this she captivated him. Putting a modern spin on old books. Kim was a fresh breeze in the library of his mind.

Now this part confuses me. Percy's wife--she's French--Mar--"

"--Marguerite--"

"--doesn't _know_ that her husband it the Scarlet Pimpernel. And she and Percy have fallen out of love because she thinks he's a brainless pretty boy. And she's _crushing_ on the Pimpernel By the way, the book describes Marguerite's physical appearance--do _all _your heroines have red hair?"

Rich grinned bashfully. "It looks that way."

"And Percy's affections have grown cold because Marguerite confided to him after their wedding--her guilty secret. She's responsible for an entire family going to the guillotine. The--let me remember--Marquis St. Cyr--"

"It's not really important to remember that name."

"Okay--her brother Armand and this guy's daughter wanted to marry, and the guy refused. So there's a family feud. Marguerite rats the guy out to these radicals in Paris--and the _whole family_ is executed. Marguerite hopes that Percy will forgive her, but he won't. He goes 'holier-than-thou' on her."

"Good so far."

"Her brother begs her to tell Percy the real reason: the St. Cyr guy hired goons to beat the crap out of Armand, because Marguerite and Armand came from a poor family. But Marguerite figures, what's the use? It's been too long; they hardly talk. Armand has a secret, too. He's a _member_ of the Pimpernel's group; he knows Percy's identity. Everybody has secrets. This is so the soap opera."

"Yes. You could say so the Drama."

"And then the bad guy shows up. Chauvelin--the French ambassador. It's like he and Marguerite used to be an item--maybe I'm just reading stuff into the book. He's a spy; he's after the Pimpernel. He wants her to use her extensive social ties to track down who the Pimpernel is--and he's abducted her brother Armand."

As the plane ride continued over the Atlantic, their discussion continued over the moments.

"Rich, I know after watching me for those two years, you know how I do things. You know how I think and act. I know the same things about you after watching you. I feel like I know how you think. You are so into stories. And part of that is because they reflect real life."

Rich nodded. This girl had keen insight. "It's like Oscar Wilde said, 'Life imitates art more than art imitates life'."

"Well, when I started reading "The Scarlet Pimpernel, I started seeing myself and Ron. I was so crushing on the pretty boy--like you told me, the pretty face and I was ignoring what was in front of me. I couldn't see how noble Ron was, and how much he cared for me. And I gave him the absolutely false impression. I wouldn't let him see how much I cared for him. Hell--I'm sorry--heck--I wouldn't let myself see it. I was hung up on the opinion that Bonnie and the rest of the Food Chain had about me--like that even matters any more. Ron and I couldn't see past our own inner hangups--just like Percy and Marguerite. Drakken tried to trick me with Erik. It's like Chavelin trying to psych Marguerite."

Rich was quietly--but deeply--impressed. Daphne had once said that Kim might be capable of good grades, but not deep thoughts. Rich couldn't have disagreed more. Kim was showing herself to have a quick, subtle, perceptive mind.

"Congratulations, Miss Possible. You have just given your first book critique for the sheer pleasure of reading, and not as a homework assignment."

Kim blushed. "Shut up. You're making fun of me."

"No, seriously. You show real potential as a literary critic."

"Richard Harte! Only you could talk like Barkin and make it sounding flattering!"

"Mr. Artist, the Bookend, takes that as a compliment."

Kim's smile faded. "Now you're _really_ making fun of me. I haven't called you that in months--I _have_ been treating you better, haven't I?"

"Kim--I'm sorry--and yes, you've been a real friend to me. Don't beat yourself up." Rich's eyes narrowed. "Kim--something's bugging you."

She started to sigh--and to cry. "Ron and me--old issues--Josh--Zita--like Marguerite and Percy. Rich--what we just talked about--life imitating art, the stories being symbolic, reflecting deeper truths--do you really believe it--the happy ending, the triumph of good over evil?

"Oh, my Kismet--with all my heart."

_Rich had his own nickname for Kim:an Arabic word: Kismet, destiny; and he would not tell her how it applied to her, outside of the phonetic similarity to her own name. She only knew that it was uniquely him. Ron's "K.P." was so safe, comfy, secure, like the old treehouse, like PandaRoo. Rich's "Kismet" was exotic, mysterious, like swirling silks, brass gongs, shifting sand dunes._

"Is there anything I can do?"

She smiled sadly. "What you always do--be a friend--pray for us--I should go back and sit with Ron."

Rich nodded--and he thought of an earlier conversation with Daphne.

_"Ricky--don't lose your heart to Kim"_

_"Lose my heart? Like I could crush on Kim."_

_"You **know** what I mean! Kim has crushes. You **adore**! You **worship**! I saw it with Cyndi Larsen and I'm starting to see it with Kim!"_

_"Sis--you're mistaken."_

_"Ricky--you have a thousand year soul. For you the code of chivalry isn't a historical relic--it's how you live. I remember what Cindi Larsen told you--that you were too intense. As deep as Kim and Ron go, you go deeper still. Kim is still this fluffy little high school girl; she has **no** idea of the devotion you're capable of."_

They would one day call it the London Undercover Mission; it was a true cloak-and-dagger operation.

_Someone had called Betty Director, supervisor of Global Justice. Someone wanted to "come in from the cold" as the agents would say--and they would trust only Kim Possible._

_Dr. Director called Kim; Kim agreed. Will Du did not agree--and for once Ron and Rich agreed with him._

_This was outside the usual scope of Team Possible's operations. They wanted reassurances of Kim's safety._

_Dr. Director explained the set-up. Kim would attend a formal ball and be given a message. The message would instruct her where to meet the person in question. She would accompany the person to a Global Justice safe-house. And that would end her involvement._

_Ron and Rich would be by her side at all times. Kim would know what she had to know to complete the mission--no more and no less. She would not be told sensitive information that might make her a liability later._

_Rich insisted on these conditions. His work in Team Harte had acquainted him with the hard facts of espionage. At their meeting with the Global Justice brass, he had stood to his feet, rested his hands on the table, and leaned toward them, Dr. Director, agent Du, and those with them. His soft brown eyes glinted steel and his mouth turned hard. He assured them if anything happened to Kim, he and Ron would "wreak havoc". And those who knew Team Harte knew Rich was not a man to be taken lightly._

They were at the ball in their formal attire. They looked resplendent. Kim was in her black satin ball gown slit up the leg, black pumps on her feet, bare arms, kid gloves, black velvet choker with emerald, a red rose in her hair. Ron and Rich wore black tuxedos with red bow ties, red roses in their lapels.

While Kim and Rich were waltzing, a middle-aged lady breathlessly approached and apologetically begged for Kim's autograph. Kim gladly agreed. Ron and Rich kept the lady under eagle-eyed scrutiny. When she left, Kim was holding a note.

The note instructed where and when to be: midnight at the Channel, near Hastings. And that was that.

But something happened on the walk back to the hotel. Ron and Kim had had another terrible argument; this time Ron had brought up Josh Mankey's name, and Kim's temper took over, and before they knew it, there was a shouting match. Rich tried to referee, and before he knew it, both Kim and Ron had walked away

Rich was left alone in front of the hotel, completely baffled. What about the mission? He shook his head in frustration. Will Du would tell this story for years. Team Possible would never be taken seriously again.

He knocked on the door to Kim's room; no answer. No one was in the room he and Ron shared. He pulled out his communicator; as with the Kimmunicator and Ronnunicator, it had been painstakingly handbuilt by his sister Daphne and her partner Wade Load. He beeped both Kim and Ron; no answer.

He had to think. He changed out of his tux and into his mission suit. Wade or Daphne could electronically trace Kim or Ron via their communicators. As he was about to do so, his communicator beeped. It was Kim.

"Rich? I checked the Kimmunicator log and saw you tried to call me."

Rich breathed a sigh of relief. "Three questions, Kim. First, are you okay? Second, where are you? Third, are you up for the mission? Maybe we could--I don't know--rearrange things."

"I'm okay. I'm back in my room. And you're sweet for treating me with kid gloves, but we both know how important this mission is to Team Possible's rep with G.J. Meet me at the rental car in an hour. We'll leave for the rendezvous site. That will still give us a couple hours before midnight."

"Okay. You're the boss."

In one hour, Rich was seated in the rental Audi in the hotel parking lot. There was a knock on the passenger side window. It was Kim, dressed in her mission suit.

She opened the door and got in. "Y'know, if this were a real spy mission, and I were a gun-toting bad guy, I could have so taken you out."

He laughed. "Nah. I saw your shadow." He became serious. "Ron coming?"

Kim shook her head and stared straight ahead. "Just drive."

Rich drove in silence until they were out of the city. "Kim--where _is_ Ron?"

Kim was still very quiet. She started to stifle a sob with her hand to her mouth, but then shook her head vehemently. "We bumped into each other in the hallway between our rooms. We were each going to apologize--but we each brought stuff up, and we both started shouting--it's done. I gave it all kinds of effort. I don't want to talk about it--ever again.''

"And Ron is--"

"At your room. Probably sulking--like he used to do in the treehouse. We can work around him, Rich. Team Possible was a two person operation for years, it can be again. I trust you."

They arrived at Hastings. They drove further, to the rendezvous site. Rich parked the car and both got out.

Rich directed Kim's attention to both the land side and the sea side. "Miss Possible, if you'll look around you, you'll see a famous historical site. In the year 1066, William the Duke of Normandy sailed from France with a great navy and landed on this spot. King Harold met him and their armies fought a great battle at Hastings. Harold was killed, the French Normans conquered the native Saxons, and William became king. Many scholars date the history of modern England from that point."

"My partner, the historian, the tour guide," said Kim drily, "Even on a mission."

"Yeah, " shrugged Rich, "That's me all over."

"Wade," Kim called on her Kimmunicator, "I assume you're hacking into an orbiting spy satellite and you have us in sight?"

"In plain view, Kim."

"Anybody around us? Heat signatures, planes in flight, offshore sonar, electronic chatter, radio transmissions--the usual?"

"Just the locals. There's a pub nearby and a couple empty beach houses. Nobody's spying on you--except me. Shall I scramble the satellite's transmissions?"

"No. That would tweak Dr. Director. Thank you, Wade. You rock."

"There," she said brightly to Rich. "We're all alone. See? I can think like a spy, too."

"So you can," acknowledged Rich.

Kim became somber. "What you saw today; I'm sorry you got caught between us; it's been going on for a while, I think; I didn't want to mention it." She faced Rich squarely and looked frankly up at him.

"But you two are going to kiss and make up, just like always--aren't you?" he asked hopefully. He took her hand and squeezed it.

"I just don't know. I'm just so tired of the same old thing, over and over. I'm just tired of being hurt." Her hand moved up his arm.

"Kim--you can't mean this. I mean--you and Ron--you two have been forever.". With his right hand, he reached for her hand that was on his left arm.

"I know. That might be the problem. We've spent our entire lives together. Maybe we just need some time apart, to see if that's the real thing. It's not like we're married, and if we can't get through the rough times now, it's better we separate while we can still be friends." Each clasped the other's hands.

"Kim--just like that? Splitsville? I know you said you don't want to--"

"Rich--please? For me? I want to keep my head in the game; and I know you can so distract me." Her eyes looked up pleadingly.

Rich felt a tremor deep in his resolve. Those eyes, both sweet and sensual, both sassy and sultry, at the same time.

Kim slipped off Rich's mission suit leather gloves, kissed both his hands, and gazed fondly into his eyes.

"Kim--"

"Rich--I know this seems sudden, but I've really known you as long now as Ron and I have been dating. We started out like enemies, but now I see what a really good man you are."

And suddenly, they were in each other's arms. He found himself saying, "Kismet, just be careful."

"Silly, it's just a mission. You'll be with me."

Even as she felt his arms around her, she could also feel that the fingers of his hands were curled up. How typically Rich; he would not put his open hand on her bare waist. Still the courteous gentleman, mindful of a lady's modesty.

And then their lips met.

He remembered the hugs and kisses from his mother before her death, and he was forever being squeezed and pecked on the cheek by Mrs. Dr. P., Mom Stoppable, and even his sister. Cute little Joss Kim's cousin, who was forever crushing either on him or Ron, had once stolen a kiss; but this--he had never imagined--nothing like this in his entire life. How warm were her lips, how tight were arms around her neck, how soft was her hair running through his fingers, how smooth was her cheek against his, how delicately her eyelashes lay on her cheek. Urges he never dreamed of having were awakened within him.

She lay her head on his shoulder and whispered sweet and tender words. "You don't know how special you are, all our late night talks, all our time together. You're my knight in shining armor. You've always been there. Please, always be there."

"I will," he whispered back.

The Kimmunicator beeped and they both jumped, startled. "Approaching watercraft, you guys," said Wade.

There was a noise offshore. They separated. Rich mentally kicked himself for being distracted--over several things.

A motorboat with two people pulled up to shore; the person at the tiller wore a cap and had the collar turned up. The hands looked masculine. The passenger wore a wide-brimmed hat and a trenchcoat.

Kim and Rich tensed for action if sudden movement was called for. Nobody pulled out any weapons. The passenger only extended a hand. "Miss Possible, I presume." It was a man, who spoke with an average English accent.

Kim extended her hand. "Yes sir, at your service." He took her hand and hopped ashore. He was shorter than her, was light-complected, and had a trimmed mustache.

Kim drove the Audi back to London, with the man next to her in the front seat. No one spoke. Rich was in the back, every sense alert. The transmission channel to Wade was open, in case something happened.

Kim pulled up to the curb of a London office building. Agent Du came out from the shadows with two men. The passenger got out and walked into the building, accompanied by the men.

"Thanks, Kimmie. Thanks, Richie. We'll take it from here," Will Du said sarcastically.

Rich joined Kim in the front seat. "Be cool, Willie. Peace out." Will glared and Kim suppressed a giggle.

With that, the London Undercover Mission, the mission for which they had embarked on the transatlantic flight, was officially concluded.

The ride back to the hotel was silent again until they parked.

Kim broke the silence. "I know I unloaded a lot of stuff on you. I know you think I'm being too quick, but--" She stuck a folded note in his hand and winked. "Read that later," she said. "If you want to, come see me." And she left the car.

Thoughts roared through his head: here it is; what you've dreamed of; your Dulcinea, the Queen of your heart--you treasonous bastard; this is your brother's girlfriend--no, his soulmate--may you roast in Hell.

Rich slowly unfolded the note.

I think I know how you feel about me, and I think I feel the same about you. I think I knew it all along. If you're ready, I want my life to move in a new direction--with you.

He stayed in the car for an hour.

When he finally went back to his room, Ron was drunk, sobbing, and nearly passed out.

Rich left for a moment and returned. Rudely he lifted Ron to his feet.

Ron's tongue lolled out. There was a line of drool down his face and shirt. "Bro, what am I gonna do?" Rich offered him a cup of something and he chugged it.

"What is it?"

"Tomato juice, raw egg, cod liver oil, --and saliva."

Ron staggered to the toilet and started vomiting

He was aware of the sliding sound of a shower curtain; he gasped in shock as a jet stream ice cold water pelted his head and shoulders. He tried to stumble out; Rich's hand gently but determinedly pushed him back in. He blubbered sloppily. "Rich--I've lost her--help me!"

"I am--Bro," said Rich grimly.

Kim was awake in bed in her hotel room. There was a soft knock. She had told Rich that she would be sleeping light tonight. She was expecting this. She jumped from the bed and ran to the door. She heard a swish, and found a note slipped under the door. She opened the door, and found an empty hall. All right, she smiled to herself, I'll play the game.

She unfolded the note; "Meet me in the courtyard; wear your ball gown."

The heels of Kim's dress shoes clicked on the floor and the fabric of her gown rustled as she walked through the lobby. "Miss Possible, I have a letter for you," the night desk clerk called out.

Kim came to the counter and took the envelope; on it was written "For The One I Am Meeting." She shook her head indulgently and stifled a giggle. How elaborate was this going to be? What a clown Rich could be, but at the same time such a romantic. She sighed.

"I was instructed not to divulge the person's identity, but only to convey this message: he assures you that he will make this a most memorable evening," the desk clerk said.

"Thank you; I'm sure it will be." She flashed him a brilliant smile, and he felt a tingle down to his toes Lucky bloke, he thought; wish I could bring a girl like that home to Mum and Dad.

Kim approached the tuxedo-clad figure; he was facing away from her. Wait, something was wrong; the way he stood, the outline of his figure--the blonde hair. "Ron," she said bitterly.

Ron slowly turned around. A seriousness was on his features; his face was composed, somber; he too was holding an envelope.

Kim frowned with disgust. "Is this you guys' idea of a sick joke?"

"K.P.--" Ron said hesitantly.

Kim's frown deepened.

"--Uh, Kim--Rich told me to bring this." Ron's envelope also said: "For The One I Am Meeting". Kim grasped her envelope with both hands and started to tear it in half. Desperation showed in his eyes as he held his envelope up. "Shouldn't we at least see what this is about?"

Rudely she thrust the envelope she was carrying into his waiting hand and snatched the one meant for her. She opened it with deadly slowness. She read, her lips moving silently.

_My dearest Kim--_

_My Kismet,_

_I must be harsh. Oscar Wilde has said, "Yet each man kills the thing he loves...some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word...the coward does it with a kiss, the brave man does it with a sword." I will do it with a pen._

_I will always revere you as the queen of my heart, but I cannot love you the way you want or need. I am both unable and unwilling. Life, experience, and God's voice within me have shown me that I am called to a higher destiny than just one person--even if that person is the most extraordinary woman I have ever know. You and I are both aware of this._

_Forgive me for my moment of weakness in leading you on. Our embrace, our kiss, your words of love--they are infinitely precious to me, for they occurred once and will never happen again. I will treasure them forever._

Kim's hand shook. Her lip quivered. She felt a vise clamp on her heart, and the acid sting of tears.

_There is another._

_Could it be that it's him?_

_You've been friends forever but then you thought you were feeling something totally new._

_He was right there beside you and you never knew._

_Everytime you need him, he's been there for you._

_Today is the start of the rest of your lives._

_I can see it in your eyes._

_It's real and it's true. It's just him and you._

_Kim and Ron; I'm going to preach at you both._

_"Do not cast away your confidence, which has a great reward." Hebrews 10:35_

_"Be angry, but don't sin do not let the sun go down on your wrath." Ephesians 4:25_

_"I have something against you. You have left your first love. Remember from where you fell. Do your first works over again." Revelation 1:4-5_

_Return to your first love--BOTH OF YOU!_

Kim looked up and blinked away the tears. Ron was reading his letter, tears streaming from his eyes.

"It's full of Bible quotes--and Shakespeare quotes--and the words of our song--from the Prom."

"Yeah--that's our Rich"

They compared their letters

"...he mentions the time we switched bodies..."

"...the time I had the Moodulator..."

"the time Monkey Fist was at the high school..."

"...and you thought I had turned into a monkey..."

"...I got Chippy into a dress--and told you--er--her--him--I dunno--that being a monkey didn't matter--we were still friends--my God, it's like he was there"

"He was. He transferred to Middleton for the art major curriculum--and because he had seen my website"

"Yeah--I remember--he wanted to see how we did it--doing missions together. He wanted to be like us."

There was a moment of strained silence between them. Both shuffled their feet.

"Ron--why _did_ you bring up Josh?"

"I don't know--why did _you_ bring up Tara--and Zita?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, by the way, you'll love this." He showed her the letter that was for him--the letter she had been carrying.

Kim almost choked with laughter as she read.

_Remember the line from "Gone With The Wind' that Ashley says to Scarlett?_

**There's something you love more than me--Tara.**

_Well, forget that. There's someone you love more than Tara, Yori, Rufus, Bueno Nacho, and wrestling put together: it's Kim; it's always been her, and it will always be._

"That goof--that absolute goof--him and his old movies."

"What's your letter say?"

"It's that scene from Casablanca."

**Rick: Last night we said a great many things...and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong.**

**Ilsa: But, Richard, no...you're only saying this to make me go.**

**Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.**

**Ilsa: But what about us?**

**Rick: We'll always have Paris...We got it back last night.**

**Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you--**

**Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow...Someday you'll understand that...Here's looking at you, kid.**

_Kim--last night we said some things, but inside we both know--Ilsa belonged with Victor and you belong with Ron--you're the thing that keeps him going, and he's the thing that keeps you going--if the plane for Middleton leaves and you're not with him, you'll soon regret it, for the rest of your life--I won't do that to you--we'll always have London--and you will never leave me--but I have a job to do, someday--so here's looking at you, kid._

"He took us to see that movie on the six-month anniversary of our first date."

"Yeah--we bawled our heads off."

Kim stamped her foot. "Damn him! He is so manipulative! He knows just what to say to make me cry! He's worse that you!"

Rich watched Kim and Ron from his high vantage point. "Come on, you two!" he whispered desperately.

Ron fell to his knees and dejectedly hung his head. Kim covered her face and shook her head, then lifted her face up. Rich could see the glisten of tears. She nodded. Each wound their arms around each other.

Rich exhaled in profound gratitude--and at the same time felt a sword thrust of anguish. He fired his cable and hook gun, and left his perch.

In his hotel room, Rich wearily sat down and drew out his communicator and beeped Wade. "Rich here, Wade."

"Wade has a few hours off, Ricky. I'm covering the board."

"Sis?" he sighed. "Daph, could you book a ride home for me?"

"Aren't you riding with Kim and Ron tomorrow?"

"No--I want to give them some private time--I need a flight before or after--it doesn't matter."

"Ricky? Something's wrong--I can tell by your voice."

"It's nothing, Sis."

"It's Kim, isn't it?"

Rich only groaned and struggled for composure.

Daphne was alarmed. It was her worst nightmare. Kim's sometimes volatile temper, her and Ron's sometimes volatile relationship, her childish preoccupation with "boys, boys, boys", Rich's childish preoccupation with chivalry, his insistence on regarding her as a queenly, romanticized figure--it was Cyndi Larsen all over again, many times worse. Kim's blossoming friendship with her brother had taken a sudden romantic turn. Rich's chivalrous nature had responded--and now his heart was shattered. Under her brother's brave valiant exterior, was a gentle poetic soul. "Ricky--stay there in your hotel room--I'll be there in a few hours."

Daphne was at her terminal at home. She had to beep Wade--there was no other choice. "Wade--are you there?"

"Daphne? I was just in my holographic beach room. Is everything okay?"

"No. Wade, I have to use the Kimjet. I'm going to London to pick up Ricky. It's not a medical or tactical emergency--it's more--romantic. I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward a break."

The Kimjet was Wade and Daphne's most ambitious brainchild: a sleek supersonic aircraft that could circle the globe on just one or two refills. It would run on conventional jet fuel, or a potent variant of ethanol that Daphne had concocted. It had cloaking ability. Betty Director had approved for its building using Global Justice funds, convinced of its technological potential, and had fast-tracked the issuance of a pilot's license to Daphne, convinced of the young woman's prodigious ability--but that is another story.

"Say no more, Daph. I've got you covered. I'll call Tri-City International and Heathrow Airports to get you flight and landing clearance and a flight plan." Wade knew of only one kind of romantic emergency that would compel Daphne to fly the Kimjet transatlantic. Daphne had confided many things to him; he knew that Daphne idealized her brother as much as he idealized Kim.

Wade and Daphne had a unique relationship: the agoraphobic computing and inventing genius, and the (some would say) religiously repressed computing and inventing genius. It was a deep friendship, given the age difference; it might be the deepest friendship he would know, given the nature of his life and his agoraphobia. It grieved him that two of his closest friends should have such potential animosity--but that too is another story.

Rich took up his Bible. It fell open to Genesis, chapter 2, where there was Kim's senior picture. She had signed it: "Dear Rich, all my love, Kim, your Kismet."

His eyes fell upon the words.

The LORD God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a companion suitable for him."...The LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept. He took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh; and the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, He made a woman, and brought her to the man. Adam said, "This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man." Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother, and cling to his wife, and they shall be one flesh. 

He turned to Matthew, chapter 11.

Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am humble and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest for your souls. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light. 

Rich stuck the note from Kim and the picture in the Bible and closed the cover. He lay his Bible and glasses on the bedside table. He switched off the electric lamp and only the light of the moon through the window lit the room. He huddled in a corner with his knees to his chin and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. "Oh, Lord, take away this burden--give me rest--" But his voice trailed off.

"Kim...Kim...," he whispered to himself. He bowed his head. His chest and shoulders heaved with quiet sobs in the silence of the room.


	6. Chapter 6: the Year of Yamanuchi, first

Our story enters a new phase for our heroes--and a new style of telling for me. Instead of merely touching on the high points every few years, we will spend the next few chapters concentrating heavily on a short term, as we proceed toward what I hope will be a dramatic climax.

Just some explanatory notes: Rich's pre-Kim life: born in Japan; lost his mother to a terrorist gas attack; moved to Upperton & had a girlfriend, a captain of the cheer squad at Upperton High, Cynthia Larsen. The Leophone is like the Kimmunicator, or the Ronunicator.

The Kigo discussion between Kim and Rich? You'll have to wait for a future chpt. to see it's pertinance.

All the books Kim mentions are in the public domain. You can find their text at the Project Gutenberg website. The Fantasia movie was made by the Disney Studios--just like the Kim Possible show.

I thank Mrdrp for his private critique. It was very helpful. Will it deter me from the non-canon-character storyline? 'Fraid not. But I realized that I was giving short shrift to the Kim-Ron chemistry, & to Ron's role. I hope future chapters will mollify him--but anyone can give a positive review. It's the negative constructive reviews that prompt me to try harder--& indicate that I've touched a writer's nerve & not just someone who will tickle my vanity.

I thank shizizaam for his private review & remarks. I must confess: it does impart a warm glow to have caused such anticipation

Do I overdo the literary references? Can't help it. It's the Richard Harte in me.

Kim & Co. is Disney's. So is the Fantasia movie

_**TWO YEARS AFTER THE PROM**_

It would one day be spoken of as the Year of Yamanuchi.

Ron had reached a crucial point in his skill in the martial arts; the only way to learn more was to go to Yamanuchi itself, under the tutelage of the Sensei, the world's greatest Tai Sheng Pek War Master

Sensei was firm and unyielding in his conditions: Ron must spend a year at Yamanuchi, without interruptions, without distractions, without visitors--without Kim. They could talk together once a week, Ronnunicator to Kimmunicator. One visit every four months would be allowed. Only life-and-death circumstances would permit a breach of the rules.

Ron confided to Rich one night at Bueno Nacho. "I can't see any way around this, Bro. Kim and I are committed to missions together. She made me promise when we got engaged: marriage, kids, missions, careers; in that order. And I was happy to do it. But if I'm going to become the kind of partner that can watch her back, there's no alternative. I've got the whole 'Mystical Monkey' and 'Lotus Master' mojo. That's a lotta baggage. There's only one guy on the planet I could train under: Sensei. And if I don't do it now, when do I? After we're married? When Kim is pregnant? When I'm a parent?"

Rich nodded. "I would agree. Have you told Kim?"

Ron shook his head. "No--there's another sticky sitch. I know Kim would agree in theory, but the year apart--wow. I'm afraid she's gonna be a basket case."

"Kim has grown by leaps and bounds--just like you. I'm sure she could handle it."

"There's something I'm entrusting to you as my best friend. It's the most precious thing in my life: Kim's safety and safekeeping."

Rich smirked. "I thought you were going to mention Rufus. I'll go into debt if I have to buy all that cheese."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha. Dude, you're so funny. Believe it or not, Sensei would allow Rufus to come. And I would consider it, if the little guy weren't so old."

Rich extended his hand. "Consider it done. My word as a knight--warrior to warrior--bound both by the code of the Bushido and the code of chivalry."

They clasped each other's forearms. Then, in the Bueno Nacho booth, they silently pantomimed their Goofballs And Dorks handshake--the high-fives, the low-fives, bumping the fists--without yelling the "Badical--Bodacious--Booyah!" There was something new, also

They clasped each other's right forearms. "The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David..." began Ron.

"...And Jonathan loved David as his own soul," finished Rich. It was another ritual between two friends who were like brothers: reciting the Bible passage about the two closest friends in Scripture.

Easter and Passover were tinged with sadness that year for Team Possible and all their families. As usual, Kim and Ron observed both holidays. They attended Good Friday and Easter Sunrise services at Rich's church. Annette Possible had begun to attend soon after Rich and Daphne had joined Team Possible. The church was pastored by their father, Rev Leo Harte, the husband of her late patient and dear friend, Mariah Bess Harte. James Timothy Possible, the devout skeptic and good-natured husband sometimes attended with his wife.

Abe Stoppable held a great Pesach meal at the social hall of the synagogue that included members of the congregation, and the families of his son's dear friends, the Possibles, the Hartes, and the Loads. Wade dared to suppress his agoraphobic instincts and join in person. Rabbi Katz overlooked the presence of the _goy_ guests at the Passover feast. Abe played the part of the patriarch at the feast. Wade played the part of the youngest and asked the Four Questions.

Ron's flight for Tokyo departed near sunset, Monday night the following week.

Kim wept inconsolably in Ron's arms before he boarded the plane at Tri-City Airport. "I d-don't know--if I can last--a-a whole year." She gulped her sobs and was able to maintain composure for a moment.

Tears streaked Ron's face, too. "K.P.--I'm starting to think better of this."

Kim shook her head. "N-no. This is right." Her arms tightened around Ron's neck one last time, as Ron lifted her off her feet one last time in his embrace. They kissed long and hard before he gently set her down again. Ron's parents Abe and Rachel Stoppable stood nearby, with Rich, and Rufus on Rich's shoulder. Commiseration was on all their faces.

Ron embraced dad and mom, not as long and hard as he had Kim, and kissed each on the cheek.

"Do good, Son."

"Love you, Dad. Take care of Mom."

"Oh, my boy! Make sure you eat enough! Do your laundry! Don't run out of clean socks and undies!"

"Love you, Mom. Take care of Dad."

He did a high-five with Rufus, finger to paw. "Be cool, lil' buddy. And don't complain so much when Mom feeds you the low-fat cheese spread."

Rufus hopped from Rich's shoulder, clung to Ron's shirt, and hugged his neck, sniffling noisily. Then he hopped back to Rich's shoulder, curled up, and wept.

Ron and Rich bear-hugged each other.

"Take care of the Team, Bro--and Kim."

"With my life. And don't go flirting with Yoriko. Kim will have my scalp instead of yours."

In the midst of his tears, Ron could barely keep from exploding in laughter. "Dude, you are seriously messed up!"

In the midst of his tears, Rich grinned. "I know."

They did the ritual, clasping each other's right forearms. "The soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David..." began Ron.

"...And Jonathan loved David as his own soul," finished Rich.

Kim and Ron walked slowly hand in hand to the boarding gate. They kissed and hugged yet another last time.

"I'll write every day!"

"Me too! And we'll talk Sunday afternoons, Middleton time--that'll be like Monday morning, Yamanuchi time."

"I'll see you at your birthday..."

"...And at your birthday..."

"...And at Christmas!" The visits had already been worked out. Kim had been willing to let Ron's parents come on the visits, but they wouldn't hear of it. The occasions they picked for her visits were obvious choices.

They stretched their arms as far as they could reached, at last breaking their grip as Ron walked sadly down the boarding ramp. Kim stood for a moment, turned, and ran to Mom and Dad Stoppable's arms.

All watched through the window as the plane lifted off from the runway, and waved. Kim turned and huddled under Rich's arm. "My heart is in your hands, Richard Harte. If you don't get me though this year in one piece, I will be so tweaked."

Abe and Rachel took their leave of Kim and Rich. In the car ride from the airport, Kim posed a question. "Rich, if you were missing the love of your life and knew that you wouldn't see them for a year, what would you do to try and feel better?"

Rich thought for a moment. "I would go to my favorite spot: up on Mount Middleton where it overlooks the city. The lights at night are beautiful."

"That's really good," said Kim dryly, "But that's our spot, too. Ron proposed to me there." She flashed her diamond. "Plus, that's where we go to--um--make out?"

Rich smiled. "Ah, yes, I remember him telling me. So if you want to go somewhere that didn't remind you of Ron--"

"That so wouldn't be the place. If you don't mind my asking, why is it you go there--aside from the fact that it's so beautiful?"

"Well, that's quite a story. Dad took me there the day Cyndi Larsen broke up with me."

"Oh, Rich--that's so sad. But weren't you guys living in Upperton at the time? Why come all the way to humble little Middleton when there just as many places to look out on the lights up there?

Rich's eyes twinkled with glee. He loved nothing better than to tell an old reminiscence. "Well, that's the interesting part. Of course Cyndi and I spent a lot of time together at the scenic lookouts. Her parents' house was up there. And we did our share of--making out--at least as much as I could get away with, being a minister's kid and a high school freshman at the time. But here's the story..."

_While we were growing up in Japan, we lived in this little village, Kenjijen. It had farms and several dozen homes--a very small town. But it was located in the valley, and on starry nights Dad would take all of us up there to see the stars in the sky, the moon, if it was out, and the lights down in the village. We would light candles and sing songs. Sometimes we would even lie under the open sky in our sleeping bags. Dad told Daphne and me the story of how he proposed to Mom on the mountain overlooking her home town back here in Colorado._

_Naturally we thought he meant the mountains by Upperton, because that's were he grew up, and that's where we moved to after Mom died. So walking with Cyndi helped me connect with where I grew up, and with where I thought my folks got engaged._

_But there was kind of a problem with visiting the mountain lookouts in Upperton. While Mom and Dad were away in Japan being missionaries and church-planters, Upperton had a real estate boom--something like Aspen. So all those mountain trails Dad used to hike when he was little now had multimillion dollar homes sitting on them. And the owners would just as soon call the cops or let the dogs loose to chase off the trespassers. The Larsen's, of course, were one of those homeowners. So after Cyndi and I broke up, my access to that spot was gone--besides, I thought, why would I want to go back to a place that reminded me of her?_

_That's when Dad told me the story. It wasn't at Mt. Upperton that my folks got engaged. It was at Mt. Middleton--overlooking the town where Mom grew up._

"...So now you know the rest of the story."

"Rich--that's really beautiful--why haven't I heard this story before?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just never thought of telling you."

Kim pretended to look grumpy. "Well it's not fair. We've been friends for two years and you know everything about me, and I'm still discovering all your little secrets."

"Kismet--be fair. You and Ron are world-famous--your own website and everything--your own made-for-TV movie. Wade and Ron even tell me how your mom broadcasts your phone calls to her over the public address while she's doing surgery. Your brothers post your diary on their own webpage." Kim rolled her eyes and Rich started to laugh. "Face it, my dear--your life is an open book!"

"You have a point. Still--don't you tell any of your private stuff to Ron?"

"That depends. Ron has mentioned that Mt. Middleton is you guys' special spot, and I've mentioned that it's my spot. But where someone's parents get engaged--that's not something guys necessarily talk about."

"Rich--let's go! I want to see your spot. I want to see if it's the same place as Ron and my spot. I want to go somewhere that reminds me of Ron--even if it makes me cry."

And so they found themselves seated at the edge of the steep drop at the scenic lookout, their legs dangling.

"Well--who would've guessed? My parents and my best friends hook up at the same place. Do you know where your folks got engaged?"

"Not around here. Daddy's family is from Middleton but Mom isn't from around here."

For a while they looked on the stars and the lights of Middleton.

"Rich?"

"Yes, Kim?"

"Does being up here help you reconnect with your mother?"

"Yes, it does. In a way, I can almost feel like I'm back in Kenjijen."

"Can I ask--do you ever miss Cyndi?"

"A little--less and less as time goes by. I've found something very fulfilling: life as a member of Team Possible. Team Harte was useful, but all we did was keep track of the villains. I never got to help people directly. And the ironic part is, Daphne was so insistent that we come out from under cover--and now she's the one who's doing things behind the scenes with Wade. What you and Ron get to do--somebody says 'Thank you, Kim Possible for saving our family--city--country'--whatever, and you get to say "Aw shucks, it was no big.'--"

Kim nudged him. "Now you're making fun of me."

Rich nudged her back. "Am not--well, maybe a little."

"Besides, if there's anyone in my family who says 'Aw shucks', it's Uncle Slim."

"You see my point, though. It's the missions; like you and Ron want to do missions even as a married couple. I want to, too--"

"Oh really," Kim drawled. "And who would you marry?"

Rich shook his head resignedly. "I'm trapped--I walked right into that one. Now you're making fun of me."

Kim smiled slyly. "Yes, I am. And I happen to know someone who thinks you're a hottie--now that Ron is spoken for."

"I'm afraid to ask: who?"

"My cousin Joss; she has pictures of you all over her room."

He groaned. "She's also barely a teen-ager. She's younger than your brothers." He looked out of the corner of his eye. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I am so enjoying this! Every minute of it. This is payback for embarrassing me."

"Embarrassing you? Possible, you're crazy! When did I embarrass you?"

"Every time you and Ron dressed up for your 'Goofballs And Dorks' club! Parkas in summer! Grass skirts in winter!"

Rich had opened his mouth to speak but then smiled widely. "Yes. I admit it."

"I wanted to put a sack over my head every time you two pulled one of your stunts."

Rich laughed; not a loud guffaw, but a clear merry sound that carried through the night air. "I'm sorry, Kim--the mental picture of a paper bag on your head."

Kim leaned over and started to tickle his ribs. "Ohh!" You exasperate me! You and Ron both!"

He grabbed her wrists. "Hey, be careful!" It's a long drop off this cliff!"

They playfully wrestled for a moment, then that activity seemed to drift off.

"Rich?"

"Kim?"

"You still plan on doing missions while Ron is gone, don't you?"

"Hah! Try and stop me!" And both the Kimmunicator and Team Harte communicator (Rich called it the Leophone) sounded.

"What's the sitch, Wade?" asked Kim.

"Kim, there's a hit on your website," Wade told her.

"Just a minute, Wade. Rich, did you bring your mission suit?"

"In my backpack. Did your bring yours?"

"Of course! Okay, Wade, continue the sitch."

"Kim, the Middleton Museum sent along this footage from a security cam."

The footage showed three people in trenchcoats and wide-brimmed hats pulled down low. They somehow looked out of the ordinary, in the lobby of the museum. One was tall, in a blue trench coat, with a black ponytail hanging out from the back of his hat. This skin of his chin was blue. The other was female, shorter, about Kim's height, with greenish skin. The third was very short, with a goatee.

Rich looked on his own screen and smirked. "I wonder who these suspicious-looking characters are."

Kim looked up at him and smiled also. "They look pretty conspicuous, don't they? Wade, freeze frame."

Wade did. The crowd in the museum stood still, and three were in plain view, looking nervously about.

"Wade, overlay the screen with images of Dr. Drakken, Shego, and Prof. Dementor. Compare for similarities in height, weight, visible facial features, and bodily configuration of our three suspects."

Wade did so. All three chuckled. "It's a no-brainer, Kim. They may as well have worn their own clothing. I suppose Drakken and Shego don't attract attention just because they're seen around Middleton all the time."

Kim smiled as she had not smiled yet that day. Forgotten for a moment that her love would be out of the country for a year. "Okay, guys, brainstorm time--or maybe it's another no-brainer. Why are these three trying so hard to blend in?"

"Well, the last time they were in the museum, Drakken was trying to finish the robbery of the energy generating device that his great-grandfather had started at the Middleton World Exposition about a hundred years ago," said Wade. "And since the device blew up--"

"--Almost resulting in his premature demise--which you prevented," broke in Rich.

"--I would have to say that he's after the plans for the device," continued Wade, "And Dementor's along to help him rebuild it--"

"--because Shego doesn't trust him to get it right," finished Kim. "God, you guys, I'm proud of us! We are_ so_ like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson--and I even mentioned the famous fictional characters before Rich did!"

"Possible--are you being sarcastic?" asked Rich wryly.

"And what if I am--Harte?" answered Kim saucily.

"Guys--Middleton Museum--website hit--suspicious characters; Drakken usually pulls his jobs this time of night," Wade reminded them.

"Sorry, Wade, you're right. We're on our way. And as usual--you rock," said Kim.

"Superlative performance, as usual, Wade," said Rich.

"'Superlative performance'?" asked Kim archly as Wade tuned out. "Still allergic to slang, are we? Wanting to sound like you read the dictionary for fun?"

Rich shrugged. "Of course! Doesn't everyone?"

Kim rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Prof, let's get dressed."

Rich changed into his mission suit behind a boulder, and Kim changed into hers in the car. In moments, they were on their way.

"Let's decide strategy," said Kim. "How should we play this?"

Rich thought. "Well, you usually make the dramatic entrance, Drakken whines, and then Shego tries to mop the floor with you--failing miserably, thank heavens. Dementor adds an element of risk. Drakken consistently has a death ray, but Dementor's weapons actually show some imaginativeness. I think one of us should make the dramatic frontal appearance, distracting their attention--and the other should come up from behind and throw them off guard."

Kim smiled. "Richard Harte, you're looking forward to this, aren't you? You tweak Shego so badly when you quote Shakespeare during a fight."

Rich smiled. "I do, don't I. Being a nerd has its rewards."

As they left the car, Kim took a scunchie out her pocket and put her hair up in a ponytail. "Just a precaution--playing a hunch."

As silent and furtively as cats they crossed the museum lawn. They drew their cable guns and fired their cables. And as sinuous as cats climbing a tree, they scaled the building to the roof. Once there, Kim regarded Rich intently.

He finally asked, "What is it?"

She shrugged. "Oh, it's nothing. You've been in Team Possible for several years now, and I still find it strange when my partner's pants don't fall down, or fly off him when he uses the grapple gun."

Rich shrugged. "Well, I can fix that." And he unbuckled his belt.

_"No!"_ squeaked Kim frantically. "Ron Stoppable! If you clown around while we're on a mission, I will be _so tweaked--_!" Kim's eyes widened and she clapped her hand over mouth. "Omigod! I called you 'Ron'! Richard Harte! Stop messing with my head! I know what you're trying to do!"

"Okay--what am I trying to do--besides trying to capture our three lawbreakers?"

"You're trying to keep me from getting bummed about missing Ron. Now c'mon! Get serious! Head in the game!"

But Rich was already grinning, the light reflecting off his glasses. "Yes, ma'am. Head in the game."

They found an open skylight and dropped through. Noiselessly they strode through the corridors. Kim held up her hand, and they halted. She put a finger to her lips to indicate silence, and Rich nodded. This was battle mode. By mutual agreement of all Team Possible members, Kim called the shots. Her commands while they were silent were obeyed without question. She pulled out her Kimmunicator, hit a button, and activated the noise detection mechanism. A little radar-like reception dish popped out. An arrow appeared on the screen indicating direction of a sound source. A numerical readout appeared, minus twenty-four indicating a distance of about thee stories below. They resumed their stealthy progress--down the stairwell, down to the corridor.

As they approached the lower levels of the building, noises were heard. At last they reached the lowest level.

It was the great repository of the museum. There were storage bins, wooden crates, cardboard boxes, file cabinets, and old display cases. Kim and Rich crawled behind the boxes.

Sure enough. Drakken, Shego, and Dementor were rummaging in the room. Shego was methodically rifling through a file cabinet, folder by folder. Drakken and Dementor were moving crates.

"Dr. D--are you _sure_ we're gonna find the plans? After all, it's been a hundred years. And I'm sure the curators have figured out what we were after that time. They've probably got the plans in a safe," said Shego wearily.

"Then we'll go safe-cracking," snapped Drakken. "_I'm_ sure you're as good at that as you are at insulting my intelligence." He puttered among the crates. "Come and help me, Demenz."

Dementor seethed.

Shego groaned. "Oh, Dr. D..."

"I am a pr-r-rofessional villain, Dr-r-rakken. Und I demand pr-r-rofessional courtesy. You will addr-r-ress me by my pr-r-roper name, or I will addr-r-ress you as 'Lipsky'--Lipsky!"

"You strudel with a goatee! I should punch your lights out!"

"Vat? Punch _me _out? Vit _dose _little hands? You blueberry pie vit a ponytail!"

They tried to grab each other and ended up slapping each other's hands.

Shego forced her way between them and held up both hands. "You guys! You promised to play nice! Listen up! Remember the plan! We all look for the schematics for the device like civilized human beings. Dr D., you get to have an energy source for all the death rays you want--a machine that works--a machine that won't electrocute you. Prof. Dementor, you get to have an energy source that can run the strongest villain light you have. You get bragging rights. 'Respect me! I'm not just the short twerp with the bad accent! I helped Dr. Drakken!' "

"Mien gute! Do I really haff a bad accent?" asked Dementor in a hurt voice.

"_Yes! _You _twerp_ with the soup kettle for a hat!" interjected Drakken.

"_Qviet! _You vit der shmall hands!" returned Dementor. They started slapping each other's hands again.

_God!_ thought Shego, what a girly way to fight! What a couple of girly men. She almost wished for the Princess to show up--or even the SideKick. Just keep those two Preacher's Kids away--Art Boy and Little Miss Prim, as she referred to Richard and Daphne Harte--those little four-eyed Good Two Shoes!

Daphne reminded Shego of herself back in the Team Go days--a Pixie Girl with glasses. All that was missing were the pigtails. An expression of total disgust settled on her face.

But Richard Harte--argh. _He_ reminded Shego of her older brother--Hego. Heronymus Percival Go--_God!_ The same platitudes! The same Boy Scout devotion to duty to God and country! And the glasses! The shock of dark hair. The square shoulders. The Noble Chin. It drove her berserk.

Shego's fingers involuntarily morphed into claws. Her hands curled into fists and dripped with glowing green plasma.

"You three are here past closing," a voice said.

Drakken and Dementor jumped into each other's arms

And Shego, who did not believe in God, felt like it was an answer to prayer. Her face lit up as she turned to face Kim. "Aw, Princess, I'm sad for you. Are you feeling kinda lonely without Sidekick Boyfriend? I heard he left on a Tokyo-bound flight yesterday."

Kim flipped her hair back with a brush of her hand and a toss of her head. (Both Ron and Rich never tired of watching it.) "Nope," she answered calmly, "I've got help."

"Who?" Shego asked sarcastically, "The naked mole rat?"

"Vat is dis naket mole r-r-rat?" asked Dementor, confused.

Drakken nudged him. "You know! The pink animal--lives in the Buffoon's pocket--mousetrap bait!"

Dementor brightened. "Ah! Der famous R-r-roofus!"

It was Rich's turn. "Naked we came into this world and naked we must leave."

The three villains jumped at the sound.

"That _voice_! I know _that voice_!" snarled Shego.

Drakken trembled. "Isn't what they say as funerals?"

"Funeral? Is dere a funeral?" asked Dementor, puzzled.

"Adam and Eve were naked and they were not ashamed." intoned Rich piously.

"I _knew it_! It's Art Boy! Where are you, you miserable nerd?" growled Shego, her hands igniting.

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Shego is the sun--"

"_Shakespeare_! I _hate_ Shakespeare! You freaking nerd! I'll break _your _window!" Shego spun, firing volley after volley of green fireballs in all directions.

_"Shego! Have you gone insane?!" _screamed Drakken.

"Ach! Mien Gute!" squealed Dementor.

Shego glowered. _"Damn! I hate Shakespeare!"_

Kim dodged the volley. Was this a good idea after all, she thought grimly. "Rich!" she called out.

"Come on, Princess! Don't worry about Art Boy! Let's get it on!" snarled Shego.

She leapt at Kim and the two began their traditional sparring and jabbing. Thrust, parry, kick, dodge, and spin.

Drakken and Dementor both drew ray gun--looking firearms and aimed, trying to get a bead on Kim. Rich noticed. Dementor was on Drakken's right. Of course! This was perfect! Dementor was left-handed. Their weapons practically touched. Rich drew _his _grapple gun, aimed and fired. The cable would around both their gun barrels, binding them together. The two tugged and struggled.

"Let go!" shouted Drakken.

"No! _You _let go!" shouted Dementor

Drakken, the taller of the two, tried to lift his arm and hold the two weapons beyond Dementor's reach. He pointed his gun at the ceiling and inadvertently fired. Drywall and plaster rained down on all of them.

Rich crouched on the floor and covered his head with his arms. When the dust cleared, no one was visible. Those three jailbirds, he couldn't care less. But his partner--"Kim! _Kim!_"

He heard a throaty chuckle behind him. He had been careless.

"You can turn around, Art Boy," gloated Shego, a mad light shining in her eyes. "You can even try backflipping out of range--or drawing a weapon--or whatever. But you're toast. I'm going to turn you into a green Tiki torch." A monstrous fireball was materializing around both her hands.

"Hey, Shego!" barked a voice off to the side

Both Shego and Rich turned in surprise. Kim had pulled her scrunchie out of her hair, and drawn it back, like a bow. She aimed and released it. It snapped Shego in her eye.

Shego staggered back, blinking. She lifted her arms, and the fireball launched into the ceiling. Another avalanche of plaster fell, burying her.

Kim and Rich ran to each other and grasped each other's hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes--are you?"

"I was afraid Shego fried you."

"Same here."

Each squeezed the other's hands reassuringly. Then they dug the villains, who were out cold, out of the plaster.

The police arrived, and the Drakken and Dementor found themselves in handcuffs. Shego found herself in the special handcuff mittens that shielded her plasma.

The head curator arrived and took swift inventory of the contents of the room. "It appears that among other things, the plans for the device they were after are burned to a crisp," he said laconically.

"Nitwit!" shouted Drakken to Dementor.

"Dumbkopf!" shouted Dementor to Drakken.

"Put a sock in it--both of you!" shouted Shego.

The officer in charge shook Kim and Rich's hands. "Thank you both."

"Oh--it was no big," said Kim, characteristically modest.

"But," questioned the officer, "When did Mr. Stoppable start wearing glasses? And where's Rufus?"

"Rufus has the night off," said Rich smiling. He whispered to Kim. "At least somebody remembered Ron's name. Too bad he wasn't here." He glanced at the villains. "All's well that ends well, eh, you guys?"

"Y'know, Art-boy," Shego growled, "Someday when you've got your mouth full of 'thee's, thou's, and therefore's', one of my fireballs is actually gonna connect--and then you can try swallowing _that_!"

"Y'know, Shego," Rich shot back, "It's your temper. You need to slow down--take aim--in other words, _Haste makes waste_! That's a quote, by the way--"

"Quote this, bookworm!" interrupted Shego, thrusting up a middle finger.

"--A quote from Ben Franklin!" finished Rich.

"You _freak_! You _Poindexter_! You _know-it-all_! So help me, _I hate you!_" screamed Shego.

"Y'know what else? That quote is taken from _Poor Richard's Almanac_!"

_**"Up yours!!"**_ bellowed Shego, as the paddy wagon door slammed shut.

"Rich, I know how you love beating Shego in a battle of wits. And I know I don't have your gift of proverbs. But--isn't there something about a caged animal being twice as dangerous?" cautioned Kim.

"Actually, the proverb you're thinking of refers to a wounded or cornered animal."

"Well, Prof," said Kim with a smirk, "I stand corrected."

"In addition, there's method to my madness. Dementor is an obsessive 'peace and quiet' personality. My hope is that he'll get such a dose of Drakken's and Shego's bickering, locked up with them, he'll never be their partner again."

"Unless it reinforces their mutual hatred of Team Possible--and they plan revenge when they get out of jail."

"Kim--seriously, can you ever see those three as a genuine threat? They hardly get along while committing a simple heist."

Kim raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at Rich. "I remember the time when I hardly got along with you. And as for serious threat, remember: Drakken was one very dangerous threat once he had a good scheme, involving Daddy's cybertronic technology, Nakasumi's toy design, and my crush on pretty boys."

Rich was about to quote the poet Robert Burns ("The best-laid schemes of mice and men...") but he held his peace, spread his arms, and said, "The lovely lady has defeated me in a battle of wits."

"Really?" said Kim brightly. "You're giving up without a struggle?"

"Absolutely. Unconditional surrender."

Kim and Rich rinsed the plaster dust out of their hair in the museum restrooms and changed out of their dust-covered mission suits.

"Well, mission accomplished. What now, partner?"

Rich glanced at his wrist watch. "Want to see the sun rise?"

"You drive. I'm beat."

As they walked to the car, Kim broached a topic. "Rich? Can we talk?"

"Yes, my Kismet."

"It's about a certain sitch--."

"I'm all ears."

"--You and Shego."

"_Shego?_ There's nothing between us but naked enmity."

"That's what I mean. She hates you. She tolerates Ron. And there seems to be this chemistry between her and me."

"I know. The tabloids make it out to be some kind of sexual tension between you two."

"Tell me about it! Us a couple! They call it 'Kigo'--like 'Kim' and 'Shego'! That co-host on the morning talk show keeps urging me to come out of the closet. She claims I'm in self denial when it comes to my engagement to Ron."

"I've read her blog. She accuses you of gay-bashing and bias by omission because you're refusing to out yourself."

Kim shook her head. "Some people."

And the conversation drifted.

"Rich?"

"Yes, Kim."

"I don't want to tweak you, but what I was saying. For some reason you just tweak her completely. Now, I'm flattered to death that you're taking care of me, and I love having you wait on me hand and foot for the next twelve months--." She took both his hands. "--But please--" Her eyes became big and her voice became quiet. "--Please, please, please. Take care of yourself. Don't antagonize Shego. How would I explain to Ron that I let his 'Bro' get incinerated?"

Slowly a half-smile stole over Rich's face. "As my Kismet commands."

"And you gotta tell me what that nickname's all about!"

"Kim, it's no big. It sounds like your name and it's Arabic for 'Destiny'."

Kim frowned. "But there's a secret behind the secret--_Ricky_!"

"Hey! Now _that's _unfair! I put up with that name from my sister!"

"Stop it! Don't you tickle me!"

In a short time, Kim and Rich were parked on the scenic turnout that faced east on Mt. Middleton.

"Rich, I want to grow this year--while Ron is away. I wan to learn everything I can about art: music, books, painting... I want you to teach me everything you know. I'm putting myself into your capable hands."

Rich smiled and a sly glint came into his eye. "My dear young lady, do you know what you're asking? Shall I become your Svengali? Your Simon Legree?"

Kim shot him a glance. "Now you're making me nervous. Both those names sound familiar. I think they're famous bad guys, or control freaks, or something. Let me back up. I don't want to compose a symphony or write a book. I just want to recognize classical music when I hear it, or a famous author's name or the book title when I hear it."

"Well, let's start out small. What's you favorite composer and-or piece of music?"

Kim sighed. "This is so embarrassing. I don't even know the name of it. I saw that Disney movie years ago--'Fantasia'--and I fell in love with that part about the centaurs and the flying horses."

"Ah, Beethoven's Sixth Symphony; the Pastoral."

"There! That's what_ I_ want to do--just toss off the name like it's no big!"

Rich pulled out his own Kimmunicator--or Leophone, as he called it, and set it on the dashboard. "There, just a second and we'll punch up the music."

"I should have guessed," Kim said. "You've got all your music in MP3."

The listened together to the majestic strains of Beethoven's Pastoral. Kim yawned. "Oh, Rich--I'm sorry--it's been a long day, and I've been on an emotional roller coaster. I'm sure I'd be a basket case if you weren't around."

"Do you want me to turn the volume down?"

"No--I love it--it's so awesome." Kim's eyelids began to droop. She pillowed her head on Rich's shoulder. "--If you don't mind."

"It's kinda bony," Rich replied.

"No...it's fine...it's a good sturdy shoulder..."

And as the sun chariot of Apollo slipped under the horizon in the symphony, the real sun broke unto view.

"Oh, Rich...it's so beautiful...Rich?"

"Hm?"

'You've got classes today, don't you?"

"Yeah, in the morning. And I'm scheduled to work from noon to eight. And I'm scheduled to cover for Daphne at the church's Helpline tonight."

"Your patient care assistant job at the Medical Center post-op recovery unit?"

"Yep. The very one."

Kim groaned. "How do you do it? I'm exhausted! I have classes, too, and then Dad wants me to do some temp work at his office this afternoon--but I'm thinking of playing hooky." She covered her mouth as she yawned. "When I was in high school, I could pull an all-night mission with Ron, do my homework while flying transatlantic, grab some coffee at my folk's, and be good to go for the school day." She yawned again and stretched. "Must be getting old."

Rich smirked. "Yeah, you're not even twenty-one and you're getting old and arthritic. I can even see some gray strands in your hair."

Kim jabbed him in the ribs. "Hey, Mister Bifocal, I'm not the one who's wearing bottle-cap glasses."

Rich jabbed her arm. "Hey yourself. You know that these are just reading glasses. I only wear them to score with the elderly ladies I take of at the hospital." And they both laughed.

Kim snuggled closer to Rich. "I don't suppose I could talk you into playing hooky with me?"

"You sorely tempt me, but being a pastor's kid has made me too conscientious."

"And to think--I used to bug Ron when he would skip class. I guess you're entitled to bug me if you felt like it."

"Don't worry. Daphne is more of a dot-the-i-and-cross-the-t person than the rest of us put together. If I played hooky, she would be all over _my_ case."

Kim's eyelids felt heavy and she began to blink. "Rich?"

"Hm?"

It's been almost a whole since day Ron left. Thank you for being there for me--for getting me through this first day."

"You're welcome, my Kismet. It's been my pleasure. Just three-hundred-sixty-four-or-so more to go."

"I so like being up here--let's do this again tonight--oh, Rich--the sunrise--it's so beautiful...!" But Kim's eyes were closed before she could complete the sentence.

She was still leaning on Rich's shoulder. Moving carefully, he reached across with his left hand and brushed a lock of the red hair from her face. He gently kissed her forehead. The serene beauty of that face surpassed the glory of the sunrise. Rich whispered to Kim the words of Romeo to Juliet. "Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, and peace in thy breast."

Many hours later, as the sun was setting, Kim was entering her parents' home. She set her backpack on the floor and collapsed wearily on the sofa. The phone rang and she picked up. "Hello, Possible residence," she said absently.

"Bon jour, mon cherie." _Good day, my beloved_.

Kim smiled. Only two people ever did that, greeting her in French: Ron, because he loved calling her "Mon cherie", and Rich, because he loved talking to her in French. Those two clowns, she thought fondly; doing the exact same things for different reasons.

"I'm sorry, sir. You must have the wrong number. I'm sure we've never met. I'm engaged, and I have no intention of talking to unknown men who are trying to hit on me."

"¡Senorita, nunca! ¡Por favor! ¡Mis intenciones son puras y honorables!" Now it was Spanish _Miss, never! Please! My intentions are pure and honorable!_

Kim's weariness was gone. She could hardly talk without laughing. "Whoever you are, I don't flirt with foreign men! Now I demand that you stop harassing me!"

"Foreign? Miss Possible, Ah'm as American as a naked mole rat. An' ma-am, mah intentions are still honorable." Now it was a country-western accent.

Kim could not suppress her giggles any longer. "Rich! You dork! What are you up to?"

"Well--I'm here at the Helpline switchboard ready to aid any desperate soul that needs to talk to someone--but no one is that desperate tonight. And then I remembered that someone wanted to take a drive up to Mt. Middleton tonight--if she's not too tired from going to class and then to work."

"Wait a minute--how did you know I didn't play hooky today?"

"I saw your mom at the Medical Center. She had a couple surgeries today. She told me you were up before the rest of the family. You must have hardly slept after I dropped you off this morning."

"Well, that's your fault, Mister Pastor's Kid! You made me feel guilty about skipping class and work!"

"Good! I'm glad I'm a positive influence. I'm almost done at Helpline. I'll be over in a couple minutes."

"I'll be ready."

Kim hung up. The thought of another evening with Rich made her feel so warm and happy. She felt a sense of fulfillment, also.

For the longest time, a couple years after Rich and Daphne had moved to Middleton, Kim had hardly known them--or she had listened to the Food Chain about who the right people were to hang with. Well, the Junior Prom had changed all that. Both Ron and Rich had tried to come between her and Erik. She had interpreted Ron's motives as childish jealousy and fear of losing her friendship. She couldn't see past his Bueno Nacho petition. She had interpreted Rich's motives as something much darker: fundamentalist religious bias against Erik, narrow-minded anti-Jewish prejudice against Ron. Kim was going to the Prom with Erik, and that was that.

But being almost-electrocuted in your boyfriend's arms can be a wake-up call. Kim swallowed her pride, took up with Ron, and never looked back.

Ron and Rich hit it off like long-lost brothers. Kim almost "jelled" ("So not!" she would insist) at the ease with which the two young men bonded. Ron and she had bonded like that years before at the ABC Preschool--but then the Food Chain would come between them.

There was the early disquiet she felt around Rich and his sister Daphne, the disquiet and distrust she had of people looked like they obsessed about church and religion, and the suspicion of people who didn't conform to the ways of the Food Chain.

There was the resentment when Rich tried to "interfere" between her and Erik Drake. And most of all, there was the shock when she discovered that Rich and Daphne did missions, just as Ron and Kim had done.

But still waters ran deep, and under the quiet exterior of Richard Harte was a soul of ocean depth. Kim felt drawn to him. She wanted to explore the mind and heart of this young man who looked so like a dork on the surface but was so profound.

At first, she had construed these feelings for Rich as romantic--and had given in to that impulse following a violent falling-out with Ron on the London Undercover Mission.

But at last she understood: it was pure friendship, not romance. Kim was desperately afraid that she had blasted to pieces any hope of friendship when Rich left London suddenly after she and Ron reconciled. But when she returned to Middleton and cautiously tried to talk to him, he responded, in his quiet and gentle way. They took up their friendship as though the disastrous almost-romance had never happened.

Rich was letting her in, slowly and gradually, to the intimate recesses of his mind and heart. And that was fulfilling.

There was still time to send an e-mail to Yamanuchi.

Dear Ron:

Oh, hon, how I miss you! I want to grab a jet and fly to Japan!

Rufus has decided he wants to spend all his time over here at my parent's house. He's either sleeping or playing Everlot online. Mom and Dad let him have the run of the house--even the kitchen. He made Mom and me cheese omelet for breakfast. It's so cute. He wears that little chef's hat and apron when he cooks, and then wears the little waiter's uniform, with the white shirt, tux jacket, and bow tie, when he serves us. I can hardly believe he can handle a human-sized pan and spatula. I'm so proud of him. Sometimes I feel like a parent--OMG, listen to me! You'd better come home next year ready to wear a tux yourself, my husband-to-be--cuz we're gonna git hitched and make babies, like Uncle Slim would say.

What you said to Rich at the boarding gate has been so true. Having him around has helped me from overboarding emotionally. We've gone on a mission already. Drakken and Shego broke into the museum last night--with Dementor! You can check the mission log at my website. He's been telling me stories from his younger days in Japan. I can see why you and he became best friends after our two teams hooked up. He's such a neat guy.

I misjudged him so badly during high school. He helped me see what--and who--I would have lost when we were in London.

Have I said I miss you? Have I said I want your body? Grrr! If you were a naco lollipop, I could so lick you!

XXX. That's me kissing you! That's the X-rated pictures of you in my head! Can't wait for my birthday! I'll fly to Yamanuchi in your blaster briefs if I have to.

Hi to Sensei and Hirotaka. Tell Yori--uh--nope--not the jell--not from me.

OMG, my thoughts. I'm a baaad little girl. And I'm gonna have baaad dreams of you tonight.

love,

Kim

The doorbell rang as she hit the "send" button. Rich was at the door. Tousled brown hair. Wire rim glasses. Warm smile. He offered her his arm as they walked to his car. He held the passenger door open. It was typical Rich--or typical Ron--sometimes it was hard to tell the difference

On the way, Rich told her. "Last night was music appreciation. Tonight is literature appreciation. Now, what's your favorite book?"

Kim batted her eyes and spoke in a southern accent. "Mistah Harte, don't y'all know what lil' me likes to read? It's next season's Club Banana catalogue!"

Rich rolled his eyes. "Okay, I deserved that--my multilingual phone call earlier tonight."

Kim giggled. "You bet you deserved it! But since it's you that asked, I'm assuming you mean serious literature." She halted for a moment and smiled bashfully. "I have to confess: I've seen more movies _about_ classical literature than actually reading the books. But I so want to read those books. I like the old English romantic stories: 'Wuthering Heights', 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Great Expectations', 'Little Women',--."

Rich gave Kim the "time-out" signal. "Whoa, that's quite a wish list. Let's see: Charlotte Bronte, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Louisa May Alcott--umm, would I sound like a know-it-all if I told you that the author of 'Little Women', Louisa May Alcott, was an American?"

"No," said Kim, "You wouldn't. Don't worry, Rich, and don't think I'm going to be embarrassed about showing off my ignorance. I trust you. I know you won't put me down."

"Thanks, Kim. I'll try to live up to your trust. Now--how would you like to study our first book? We could listen to an audiobook narration--or a dramatization, like a play--or we could even read the book ourselves off the Leophone and Kimmunicator screens. I have text files I could download to the Kimmunicator."

"Rich--now it's my turn to say 'Whoa'. Are you telling me you have all this stuff on your Leophone? That's like people storing the Library of Congress on their Ipod."

Rich looked as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Well--of course. Don't people do that?" He saw Kim's look of doubt and hastily reassured her. "Don't worry. We won't overdo it."

They ended up reading alternate chapters of "Pride and Prejudice". It was well past midnight when Rich called a halt to the evening's activities.

"Rich--this was _fun_!" said Kim gleefully. "I feel like I'm back in the treehouse reading books with Ron again! Omigod, talk about a Food Chain! Talk about pressure! Mrs. Bennet has to marry off all her daughters because they're going to become homeless when Mr. Bennet dies! This _cousin _William Collins! He comes on to Elizabeth. He thinks reading _sermons_ is fun! God, what a _bore_! Uh, sorry, Rich, I don't mean to say that he sounds like you--!"

"S' okay, Kim."

"--But Elizabeth's all hung up on Charles Wickham. 'All the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address.' Does that sound like me and Erik Drake, or what. But then there's Fitzwilliam Darcy--who Lady Catherine--Lady Dragon, if you ask me--."

Rich laughed at Kim's mention of "Lady Dragon".

"--Wants him to marry her daughter. And Elizabeth and her dad are like so--'My little Lizzy.' I can almost hear him call her 'Lizzy-cub'--."

Rich laughed again.

"--And Elizabeth and Darcy! She's like 'From the very beginning--your manners--your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others--you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.' And he's like 'And this is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed!'

You can just _tell_ they're so _crushing_ on each other!"

Rich listened patiently as Kim chatted nonstop for several moments until she ran out of breath. "Kim, I'm a bad influence on you. You sound like you've already memorized the book word for word."

Kim laughed. "Shut up! You're making me blush. I was so afraid that reading this would be a bore, like with the old-fashioned language, but being with you makes it so easy. Rich--can we do this every night?"

Rich yawned. "My dear Kismet. I think it's _me _that's going to play hooky tomorrow, if you keep me up every night."

Kim drove down from Mt. Middleton. Rich drifted off to sleep in the passenger seat. His head bobbed and eventually settled on Kim's shoulder. Kim would steal a fond glance now and then. She put her left hand to her lips and blew him a kiss. "I love you, Richard Harte," she whispered. "And I know Ron does, too. You've made such a difference in our lives."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	7. Chpt7: the Year of Yamanuchi, second

Screaming phoenix, Solarstone, Jason Barnett, I can entirely appreciate your sentiments. If I were reading it from the point of view of a regular series viewer, I also might feel like offended at the inclusion of an "O.C." in such a prominent role. But I came to become a K.P. fan writer from the artwork of Richard Sirois. To me, the "O.C." characters are as much a part of the tale as the series characters, as skewed as that sounds. But I hope to give a more rounded out role to the regular characters—as I try to do in this chpt.

Hachiman is the Shinto God of War and Japan's protector. It is believed that he reincarnates, or is personified every few centuries in human form. One such person was the Japanese Emperor Ōjin, who ruled in the 3rd & 4th centuries A.D.--ironically about the time Yamanuchi was founded, according to the K.P. show. Another appearance is the famous samurai Minamoto no Yoshiie

Check out Wikipedia. You can't help but blend the legend of Hachiman and the legend of the Bearer of the Lotus Blade. "None but the pure of heart can wield it."

Yoriko's story of the Venerable Master and the nerve gas attack in Tokyo on March 20, 1995, is historical. Consult Wiki, the CourtTV website for Shoko Asahara and the Aum cult (the real names of the man and his cult), and my fic "Kim and the Lionheart".

Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Middleton, Yoriko, Sensei, Hirotaka, the Lotus Blade, Yamanuchi, Monkey Fist, DNAmy, Jackie Oakes

are from the K.P. show.

Richard, Daphne, and Leo Harte are from my head. So are Akiro and Ichiro Kansumi. And Katrina Mercador. And Kenjijen. And the two gangs, the Yama's and the Nuchi's. And Omi and Yabu.

The Yiddish expressions Ron uses are from Koshernost-dot-com.

_**FROM **__**INNER STRENGTH**__** BY FREDERICK ALOYSIUS (a fanfiction sequel to **__**EXCHANGE**__**) (used with permission)**_

_It was a quiet night in an Asian tropical forest. A red glow came from the top of the volcanic cone. An entrance to the volcano at its foothills is visible. In the forest were typical night forest sounds, but in the volcano was a high pitched, monkey-like laugh from a single voice._

_Within the volcano was a large cavern. Within the cavern was a pool of boiling lava. .Overlooking the pool was a ledge. Standing on the ledge were Monkey Fist and a legion of his Monkey Ninjas. Moonlight was coming in from the top of the volcano and shining on the lake of lava. As Monkey Fist spoke, he raised his arms as if calling something out of the lava pit. A red sword emerged from the lava pit and hovered in the air in the beam of moonlight._

_"The ancient texts were right! I have created that which will give me the power to destroy my enemies! I, Lord Monkey Fist, will lead you, my army of Monkey Ninjas, into glorious battle. We will be unstoppable now that I have--the Crimson Blade!"_

_He was answered by a deafening racket of high pitched, monkey laughter from many voices._

_Voice of Sensei: "After your last encounter, Monkey Fist studied the ancient texts to plot his revenge. After much searching, he found a manuscript that described how the founders of Monkey Kung-Fu created the Lotus Blade. Armed with this knowledge, He spent many months in seclusion working but he finally succeeded."_

_Voice of Ron: "He created another Lotus Blade?"_

_Voice of Sensei: "No, he created its twin, the Crimson Blade."_

_Voice of Ron: "Ooooh, I get it. Sorta like a good twin bad twin thing."_

_Voice of Sensei: "Precisely. He used it to exact his revenge on the school."_

_Voice of Ron: "But what about the Lotus Blade? Did Monkey Fist get it?"_

_Voice of Sensei: "No. It was hidden after the last encounter so that only one who is pure of heart can retrieve it."_

_**TWO YEARS AFTER THE PROM**_

The plane lifted off from the Tri-City Airport runway. Ron watched through the window the terminal where his parents, his brother-at-heart, his pet, and his beloved were, in all probability watching this very plane.

He would not see Middleton for the next year. He would not see Kim for several months. To ease the heartache, he drew upon the martial arts training. He withdrew his mind to an inner place.

He envisioned Kim. The feel of Kim's body in his arms. The smell of her hair in his nostrils. The sound of her 'I-love-you's in his ear. The sight of her that filled his eyes. The hair, resplendent as sunrise and thick as a wheatfield. The little turned-up nose. The puppy-pout mouth. The smooth neck. The bare midriff that he had gazed upon daily, and could finally encircle with his arms anytime he wished. The rounded bosom, the curvy hips, the sweet belly that of all men only he had seen. The slender arms that were stronger than his and could lift him as easily as he lifted her. The small delicate hands that could so gently caress his body and so thoroughly knock a villain's lights out. The trim legs that could outrun and outjump him and look so alluring. And most of all the eyes. The jewel-green, grass-green eyes that could show every tenderness.

He wrapped himself in his meditations and gazed out the window. The mountains of Colorado receded. The mountains of California drew near.

Then came the Pacific Ocean. The endless Pacific, no shore in either direction. He began to feel an anticipation. Yoriko; Sensei; Hirotaka. He had not seen them for several years. It was like going to a family reunion.

As he debarked from the plane in the Tokyo Airport, he looked absently for a greeting party. It did not matter if anyone was there. He could find his way to Yamanuchi blindfolded. He would go on foot, if needed.

His friends proved to be considerate. "Stoppable-san!" boomed the stentorian voice of Sensei.

Sensei was still the short stout figure with the full flowing white beard and twinkling eyes. He still wore the bright red caftan. It stuck out like a beacon. His flowing white hair was tied in a topknot. How ironic that the headmaster of a secret academy that taught the ninja arts should appear in public looking like a Japanese Santa Claus.

Hirotaka was in his leather jacket. His wild thick unruly hair that Kim, Monique Knowles, Bonnie Rockwaller, and every other girl at Middleton High had sighed over looked the same. And Yoriko--she did not wear the schoolgirl uniform with pleated skirt that she once did--that Ron had found so appealing. It was a fashionable woman's suit with mid-length skirt and matching jacket. But the jet-black hair, cut in the bangs and bob, the dark almond eyes, and the dazzling smile--those were the same.

Yoriko sucked in her breath. Stoppable-san was taller, leaner, poised. In the full measure of manhood. She walked swiftly to him to offer the customary embrace and kiss on the cheek.

He surprised her by seizing her in a strong hug and spinning her around.

**"Stoppable-san!"**she gasped.

He kissed both her cheeks. "Yori! It's **good** to see you!" He honestly missed her. In turn, he embraced Hitotaka, and even Sensei, heartily.

"Stoppable-san! Your Sensei is no longer a young man! Have a care!" laughed the old teacher. But Sensei returned the bearhug.

Yoriko's heart fluttered. She had looked forward to seeing her Ron-san, but she did not anticipate the intensity of emotion she would experience.

Rich brought two items of luggage: a suitcase and a carry-on.

"Stoppable-san," exclaimed Hirotaka, "When you first came to our country, you carried a mountain of luggage for a one-week stay

Ron grinned. "That's also when Yori told me it would be my 'honor' to carry every last piece of luggage up the mountain. I've learned my lesson--pack light when I'm with her!"

Sensei and Hirotaka laughed.

Yoriko blushed. "Stoppable-san, you are embarrassing me." And she put her arm through his as they walked out of the airport terminal. "But I have missed your American-style humor."

Hirotaka drove the small rental car. Sensei was in the front seat. Yoriko sat very close to Ron in the back seat.

"So, Stoppable-san, you are now a betrothed man. Possible-chan now wears a diamond ring. Do you wear an ankle manacle with a ball and chain?" teased Hirotaka.

Same old Hiro--the ladies' man, the player. "No, Hiro. I wear a slender thread around my heart. And it leads all the way back to Kim. The other end is tied around her heart. And when one of us pulls, the other feels the tug."

"And have you impoverished yourself by buying her flowers, and meals, and expensive clothes?"

"Nah. We usually eat in. I do all the cooking. And shopping for one fiancé is less expensive than all the money some other guy might spend on stuff like his own clothes, motorcycles, lotsa girlfriends--uh, you wouldn't know anyone like that, would you, Hiro?"

Hirotaka smiled wryly. Touché, Stoppable-san. "No, Stoppable-san. No one like that comes to my remembrance."

Sensei nodded approvingly. Stoppable-san was no longer the socially clumsy boy he had been years ago. He had matured into a self-confident young man. "So, Stoppable-san. Tell me of your fiancé, Possible-chan, and your brother, the Lionheart."

"Well," said Ron, "Kim and I have talked about getting married after my year at Yamanuchi."

Surprise registered on the faces of Sensei, Hirotaka, and Yoriko. Loud congratulations burst from Sensei's and Hirotaka's lips. Hirotaka reached back with one hand and warmly grasped Ron's hand. Sensei guffawed and clapped a hand on Ron's knee. Yoriko became very quiet and her smile became very strained.

"So, Stoppable-san," said Sensei, "Would you wish to be married at Yamanuchi? Or we could arrange honeymoon accommodations, if the two of you wish it."

"Heck, you guys, we just talked about it. I haven't really popped the question--I was kind of waiting until I got back home."

Yoriko drew a deep breath. She seemed more relaxed at hearing this information.

Hirotaka couldn't resist a verbal jibe. "So tell me, Stoppable-san--who is Possible-chan's chaperone while you are here?"

Ron smiled. "She's in good company, Hiro. She'll be hanging out with Rich while I'm gone."

"With Harte-san? The Lionheart? You do not know what you risk, Stoppable-san. Harte-san is a veritable love machine. I taught him all I know. Possible-chan will be helpless. She will be completely unable to resist his charms."

Ron was good-naturedly skeptical. "Are we talking about the same Harte-san, Hiro? The born-again Christian? Doesn't swear, doesn't drink, doesn't look at porn? I know my man Rich. He's more kosher than me. Kim is as safe with him as she is with her parents. A lot safer than with you, by the way."

And Hirotaka laughed boisterously.

Yoriko gently reprimanded Hirotaka. "You forget, Hirotaka. I grew up with the Lionheart and his sister. The behavior of both are beyond reproach."

It was a several hour trip out of Tokyo. They pulled the car over to the curb on a deserted stretch of road. The hill was a steep ascent. Ron knew the way by heart, though it had been less than a handful of times since his sophomore year in high school. An employee of the rental agency, in all likelihood a Yamanuchi student, would retrieve the car. Ron began the walk up the hill, at a brisk pace. He looked back. "What are you guys waiting on? For me to lag behind?"

Hirotaka and Yoriko looked at each other.

"He will exhaust himself," said Hirotaka.

"Are you sure?" asked Sensei, with a twinkle in his eye. He had already started up the steep incline.

"Stoppable-san, at least permit us to carry your luggage," called Hirotaka. "You were but a student last time. You are now an honored guest."

"I'm still a student, Hiro. And it's still my honor to carry my own load," called Ron. "Master Sensei, are you going to levitate? With the mystical floaty thing? The force field bubble?" he asked, referring to one of Sensei's abilities.

"No, my young ninja. It is fitting that a teacher should walk with his student."

Up they went, through the mists of the forest.

On the walk up, Ron asked about Rich. "It seems you guys know about this whole other side to his life.

Sensei spoke in his instructing tone of voice. "Even as with Yanamuchi, Stoppable-san, there are many secrets in the world of the Ninjitsu. Many are those who owe the Lionheart and his sister a debt of gratitude. And for that reason, we honor his confidentiality, as he honors ours."

"Among the ninja, the Lionheart is reckoned as a mighty and an honorable warrior," Hirotaka explained. "He is almost as highly regarded at the Lotus Master." And he bowed slightly toward Ron.

Ron knew, of course, how important honor and courtesy were in Japanese culture and history. He was touched that Hirotaka, the brash irreverent young man, would extend that courtesy toward him. And he was somewhat astounded to learn that somehow, his friend Rich had achieved the same level of honor. He must learn more, time allowing.

They topped the rise and came to the foot of the roaring falls.

Ron stopped a moment.

"Stoppable-san?" asked Yoriko. "We must continue. Have you forgotten the way?"

"Never, Yori. I'm just enjoying the moment." Ron breathed deep. "It's like I'm coming home, and I didn't know how much I missed it."

Yoriko's heart skipped a beat. _Compassionate Buddha, make this Ron-san's real home,_ she prayed.

The little group slipped behind the waterfall into the hidden cave. They walked for a while until another opening could be seen ahead.

And it came into view; the mighty gorge crossed by the seemingly frail little rope bridge. It let to the mighty pagodas, against the backdrop of the mighty peak; such was Yamanuchi. Ron exhaled in wonder. It was a spectacular sight and it never failed to take his breath away.

The gong sounded inside the walled enclosure. The students assembled. "Your Sensei returns!" called Hirotaka in a commanding voice. And in perfect unison the students fell to their hands and knees and touched their foreheads to the ground.

"My students, my children," called Sensei, "Arise. Let us welcome our guest, Stoppable-san."

All the students were dressed in gi's. They rose to their feet and stared in wonder. Awed whispers could be heard. "Stoppable-san--the Chosen--the Lotus Master." As Ron approached, each student folded his or her hands and bowed deeply.

"Yoriko-chan," said Sensei, "Go and bring forth the Blade."

Yoriko bowed and left hurriedly. Ron looked around. The courtyard, the gong, the walls, the building, the very air. He inhaled deeply. Middleton was his birthplace. It was where he grew up, and where Kim lived. It was the home of his heart. But Yamanuchi--Yamanuchi was where his courage was born. Here he learned to walk alone--without a helping hand. Monkey Fist had contested his endowment of the Mystical Monkey Power. Fukushima had contested his right to be a student at Yamanuchi. Both had contested his right to bear the Lotus Blade. But encouraged by Yoriko and Sensei, and without relying on Kim's bail-out, Ron had conquered his inner doubts and triumphed over his opponents.

Yoriko returned carrying a silver blue katana that had a hand guard shaped like a flower blossom.

Sensei stood tall and lifted up his voice. " Our school has a long and honored history. In the Year 998, according to the Imperial calendar, and the Year 338 Anno Domini, according to the Christian European calendar,Yamanuchi was founded by the great warrior Toshimiru, who carved this monastery from the living rock of the mountain, using only this sword, the Lotus Blade." He motioned toward Ron. "Lotus Master," he in a voice that seemed to resound from the vast gorge, "Claim now your weapon, the sign of your destiny."

Ron stretched forth his hand. The sword flew like a missile from the scabbard into his grip. He held it aloft and the deep blue glow that emanated from it lit the courtyard. He felt vibrant life flooding through him.

An audible gasp of awe filled the entire structure. To a person, every student and teacher fell again on their faces. "Hail the Lotus Master! Honor and glory to the Bearer of the Blade! Honor and glory to the Lotus Master!"

Yoriko lifted her face and clasped her hands in adoration. Passion filled her heart and tears of love flowed from her eyes. Surely none like him had ever before lived. Her hero--her god--her Stoppable-san.

"My children. My students. Stoppable-san, the Lotus Master of this generation, is among us for the next twelve months, to better learn the way of the Ninjitsu and to perfect his mastery of the Tai Shek Peng War that he may better serve his betrothed and mission partner in their endless battle for good. Tomorrow begins his training regimen. But tonight," said Sensei with a twinkle in his eye, "We celebrate! A feast in his honor!" He turned to Hirotaka. "Hirotaka-san!"

Hirotaka bowed. "Sensei-sama!"

"Prepare the Great Hall. Prepare the food and drink. You know what to do."

Hirotaka bowed again. "It shall be done, Sensei-sama." And he directed those around him. "Jiro! Go to the kitchen! Yuka! Come with me!"

Ron sheathed the sword in the scabbard that Yoriko carried.

"Now, Stoppable-san, issue the command, and the Blade will return to its place of safekeeping," said Sensei.

Ron was perplexed for a moment. Then he furrowed his brow in concentration. "Return," he whispered.

And the sheathed Blade faded from view.

The Sword will go to a cleft in the Mountain," explained Yoriko. "A safe place. Out of reach of thieves like Monkey Fist--or traitors like Fukushima. To be recalled by the pure of heart--by yourself, Stoppable-san." She pulled on Ron's arm. Come, Stoppable-san. I will show you to your quarters."

She led him to the room he had occupied on his first student-exchange stint years ago. "Welcome to your home for the next year, my Ron-san."

Ron grinned. "I was wondering when you would start calling me by that name." He nudged her. "I've missed hearing it."

Yoriko said, "And I have missed hearing the name 'Yori'."

Ron looked around. "Yep. Same old comfy bed," he said, smiling." He nudged the sleeping mat with his foot--and noticed another sleeping mat. "I see I have a roomie, this time. That wouldn't be you, would it? Kim would so jell."

Yoriko blushed and giggled. "Ron-san! You are shameless! You know I am a proper girl! This is for Hirotaka--with your permission, of course. Sensei has asked him to take a sabbatical from his acting career to assist teaching you. And Hirotaka has graciously consented."

"Not the problem. I don't mind if he doesn't mind. So tell me, if you don't mind. Are you and Hiro a couple?"

Again Yoriko blushed. "No, Ron-san. He has many women friends. And I await someone worthy of my affections."

"Hope you find him. You deserve the best."

Yoriko only looked intently at Ron. After a moment she spoke. "In the cabinet you will find clothing, Ron-san. I must go and prepare for the festivities. I will see you soon."

She slid the panel shut on her own room and was alone. On the low desk next to her sleeping mat was a brass Buddha figurine, a candle, and several pictures. She knelt, lit the candle, clasped her hands, and gazed upon the portrait of Ron Stoppable. "Compassionate Buddha," she prayed quietly, "My heart is full. It is my karma to be my Ron-san's companion for the next year as he perfects his learning. I know that all is ordained--but I beseech that his heart might find its place here. May my feet remain on the Path. May I be worthy to instruct and assist my Ron-san."

She blew the candle out, and changed out of her jacket and skirt into her black gi. Twelve months. Twelve months to wean Ron-san's heart from Middleton and Kimberly-chan to Yamanuchi--and herself. _Let my desires be pure. Let karma be fulfilled_.

The Great Hall was lit with lanterns and strung with confetti. There was sushi, nacos, pizza--saké, kosher wine, soft drink.

Yoriko was a very devout Buddhist. She contented herself with a small wine cooler--and for her, that was an extreme indulgence. Ron was simply not a drinker. He drank cola. Sensei was merry and expansive. No one could tell how much he had to drink.

Yoriko was at Ron's side the entire night. Most of the time her arm was through his. A few times his arm was around her shoulders and her heart fluttered like a butterfly--or around her waist, and she became giddy, nearly fainting with bliss.

Ron kept the crowd in laughter. He regaled them with stories of his days as Kim's inept partner--before the night that changed his life. He had blurted out his confession to Kim--"There's someone for you--out there--in here." And barely days later Team Harte had joined Team Possible. Ron had found a lover in Kim--and a brother in Richard Harte. And all the Yamanuchi teaching kicked into high gear.

"There was the time Sensei appeared to me in the high school cafeteria. He wrote my name on the wall with mystery meat gravy. I spent the whole night hiding under the furniture at home. Rufus scared the crap out me when he pretended to look like a giant shadow puppet. I tried to block the door with a dresser. And Yoriko scared the crap out of me by sneaking in my house and coming up behind me after I had pushed the dresser up to the door."

It was not that what he said was funny. It was how he said it. How he pantomimed Rufus with the claws. How he imitated himself with the wide eyes, the stuck-up hair, and the high-pitch screech.

He included his antics with Richard Harte and their Goofballs-And-Dorks masquerades.

Yoriko was proud of her Ron-san. His American-style humor. His new self-confidence. He was not afraid to make fun of himself.

His final trick of the night was to show off his routine as the Middleton High School Maddog Mascot. He put the bulldog mask on and shook his jowls, showering people with banana cream foam. Then he did a series of backflips the entire length of the Great Hall. At the last flip, his pants fell down and showed his boxer shorts. Red silk shorts with pictures of Sensei.

**"Stoppable-san!"**screeched Yoriko with shock.

Sensei doubled over and roared with laughter. Tears of hilarity flowed down his cheeks. It was ten minutes before he could catch his breath. Yoriko feared he would have a heart attack.

At last the party was done. Sensei wiped his eyes and gave Ron a rib-squeezing hug. "Oh my Stoppable-san--in a hundred years I have not laughed so hard. Thank you, my son." He went off to his quarters, still chuckling.

Yoriko and Ron watched Sensei as he tottered off . "How much saké has he had? Will he be okay?"

Yoriko smiled indulgently. "He will awaken completely sober, and as clear-headed as the mountain air."

"Is he really over a hundred years old?"

"I have consulted the records back to the time of the American occupation, after the Second World War. Sensei is mentioned as headmaster of the school."

"Jeez! That was more than sixty years ago! What's his secret?"

She shook her head. "I do not know. I can only hope and pray that I will be as fit at his age--whatever that is."

Ron looked at the Ronunicator. "Oh, man. It's a text message--from Kim!"

Yoriko tried to look noncommittal. "From Kimberly-chan? So soon?"

Ron calculated. "Lemme think--Tokyo time zone--twelve hour flight--crossing the International Date Line--." His eyes widened. "Wow! This is from yesterday!" He showed the screen to Yoriko.

Dear Ron: Oh, hon, how I miss you! I want to grab a jet and fly to Japan! Rufus has decided he wants to spend all his time over here at my parent's house. He's either sleeping or playing Everlot online. Mom and Dad let him have the run of the house--even the kitchen. He made Mom and me cheese omelet for breakfast. It's so cute. He wears that little chef's hat and apron when he cooks, and then wears the little waiter's uniform, with the white shirt, tux jacket, and bow tie, when he serves us. I can hardly believe he can handle a human-sized pan and spatula. I'm so proud of him. Sometimes I feel like a parent--OMG, listen to me! You'd better come home next year ready to wear a tux yourself, my husband-to-be--cuz we're gonna git hitched and make babies, like Uncle Slim would say.

What you said to Rich at the boarding gate has been so true. Having him around has helped me from overboarding emotionally. We've gone on a mission already. Drakken and Shego broke into the museum last night--with Dementor! You can check the mission log at my website. He's been telling me stories from his younger days in Japan. I can see why you and he became best friends after our two teams hooked up. He's such a neat guy.

I misjudged him so badly during high school. He helped me see what I would have lost when we were in London. 

Ron turned red. "Well--I guess I didn't let have to let you read that part about making babies. Kim would be so tweaked. Don't tell her when you see her--when she comes."

_When she comes._ Compassionate Buddha give her strength. "I envy you, Ron-san. To not only have a soulmate like Kimberly-chan, but a friend like the Lionheart. To even have a pet like Rufus-san." She smiled. "I miss Rufus-san. Perhaps he can accompany Kimberly-chan on one of her visits."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I'm kinda missing my friends. Rich is like a brother to me. Y'know, you're as good a friend to me as Rich is."

Yoriko frowned. "I am like a **brother** to you, Ron-san? Thank you. You know how to compliment a girl."

"C'mon, Yori," appealed Ron. "You know what I mean."

Yoriko hugged Ron around his waist with one arm. "Come, my Ron-san. I will walk you to your room. The new day begins in only a few hours--and we must both awaken to your training regimen."

Ron hugged Yoriko and tried to make it brotherly. "G'night, Yori." He kissed her forehead--just out of a sense of closeness. "It's badical to be back at Yamanuchi--and to see all you guys again." He thought he smelled a hint of cherry fragrance.

Yoriko sighed silently as she gave Ron a heartfelt hug. She could smell his aftershave. It was the piney smell he had always worn. It even reminded her of what her father used. Men hardly ever changed what they wore. Not that she would want Ron to change anything about himself. She could even feel the stubble as her cheek brushed against his. And the way he brushed her hair to kiss her forehead--it was all bittersweet heartache. _Oh my Ron-san--to feel your arms around me--I can hardly bear it._

Ron was awake before sunrise. He did a combination of aerobic calisthenics, traditional western calisthenics, and Tai-Chi exercises in the walled courtyard, and then jogged outside the old stone monastery wall The masked ninja guards who furtively patrolled the perimeter of the structure with drawn bow and arrow acknowledged his presence with silent nods. And he nodded back.

The sky grew lighter. Sunrise approached. The sky was growing pink on the rim of the eastern horizon. Then it turned red, and the birds began to sing. On a whim, Ron scaled a wall as nimbly as a squirrel. He reached the guard walk at the top of the wall surrounding Yamanuchi There was a bead of sunlight on the horizon as bright as a laser. The mountain peaks were touched by rays of sunlight. Then an explosion of glory. The birds' songs rose in pitch like a symphony. It was a majestic sight, full of grandeur

The scarlet sun, the dark blue sky, and the purple mountain peaks. The clouds and snows of the mountain peaks were lit by the rays. He was moved to awe and reverence. As Kim felt when watching the sunrise with Rich.

As David said in the Psalms:

Awake, my soul! 

Awake, harp and lyre! 

I will awaken the dawn. 

I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations; 

I will sing of you among the peoples. 

For great is your love, reaching to the heavens; 

your faithfulness reaches to the skies.

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; 

Let your glory be over all the earth.

Ron's gi top was wet with sweat. He untied the sash of his gi and took off his shirt. He wanted to feel the breeze. The air temperature was freezing or below at this altitude, but he hardly felt the chill

Yoriko watched from the courtyard. He was lean. His muscles rippled in the light. She covered her heart with her hand. Stoppable-san. He was like a warrior of old. Like a god. Like Hachiman, the legendary protector of the innocent. Like Ojin, Hachiman's reincarnation, Nippon's Emperor when the Yamanuchi School was founded.

Ron heard a sound. He turned. Sensei had entered the courtyard and was standing beside Yoriko.

"Sensei-sama." Both Yoriko and Ron bowed.

"Come to breakfast, my students And then--our training regimen, Stoppable-san, begins this day with a mission."

Ron became attentive. "A mission? Like with Team Possible?"

"Yes. You and Yoriko-chan will go to Tokyo and assist in apprehending certain criminals. All will be explained."

After breakfast, Yoriko and Ron scrambled down the mountainside and were met by a sedan with tinted windows as they approached the curb of the road. The driver's side window rolled down. "Good morning, Stoppable-san and Kansumi-chan. I will take you to your destination in Tokyo."

They made small talk during the ride.

"You guys call Rich 'Lionheart'," said Ron.

"It is taken from his name, 'Richard Leo Harte', and the similarity to the famous English king, Richard the Lionhearted. When we were all very young, my grandfather would gather us around him and tell us stories of heroes and champions rescuing the helpless," said Yoriko.

"Kinda like Kim and I in our treehouse," said Ron.

And the talk turned serious. "Yori," asked Ron, "Did you know Daphne and Rich's parents--growing up in Kenjijen?"

"I did," she answered. "They were both very kind."

"Now that he and I are like brothers, I know his dad pretty well, but his mom--well, she died."

"I was there," said Yoriko quietly, "The day of the sarin nerve gas attack in Tokyo."

"You were **there**?" asked Ron, shocked.

Yoriko nodded. "I will recall it to the end of my life. 1995."

"Damn," said Ron. "I was six years old. K.P. and I were fighting off bullies like Arnie Custer. And here you were, seeing real-life terrorism up close.

Yoriko told the story with subdued voice. And Ron listened in stunned silence.

_Nippon is full of cults. The Mountain of Supreme Truth was a very aggressive one. Its leader, the Venerable Master, tried to become Prime Minister. He tried to fill Parliament with his followers. He bribed, threatened, and murdered all who opposed him. And when the people did not elect him, he decided to inflict a great punishment in revenge. His lackey, the Doctor, experimented with many weapons of mass destruction. It took place in the morning, during the commute of many to their place of employment in Tokyo. The followers of the Venerable Master hid plastic bags of nerve gas under subway car seats, and punctured the bags with sharpened umbrella tips. The gas slowly seeped out._

_My mother and the Lionheart's mother, Mariah Bess Harte-chan, had gone to Tokyo for a shopping holiday. My mother took me with her. We were riding the subway, and were just exiting at our desired stop. Suddenly the car filled with a white gas, like fog. It smelled terribly--like death. People began to panic. The doors began to automatically close. Harte-chan pushed us through the doorway to safety. Then the door panels closed, trapping her. Mother screamed and beat upon the glass with her fists. A kindly man forced open the doors and carried out Harte-chan._

_Dozens of people died that day. Thousands more were overcome by the gas. Fear ruled the hearts of the populace. Mariah Bess Harte-chan was hospitalized for several days, then was released. All seemed well._

_Then she began to weaken. Fainting spells. Kidney failure. Breathing failure. It was very gradual. Over the five years, Harte-chan grew worse. My father's Christian church prayed much to the Lord Christ. My grandfather and I prayed much to the Lord Buddha. Harte-san took her to many doctors. Many neurologists and neurosurgeons--even to Dr. Possible-chan in America--in MIddleton, Colorado--where Harte-chan grew up. There was nothing medical science could do--but Mariah Bess Harte-chan and Annette Possible-chan became deep friends. _

_And so Mariah Bess Harte-chan passed away. And Leo Harte-san and his children moved back to America--back to the home of his wife's youth--Middleton._

"And so you see, my Ron-san, how the fabric of Destiny weaves us together," concluded Yoriko. "I became a ninja, partly to oppose the evil of men like the Venerable Master--at Yamanuchi. Unknown to me, the Lionheart and his sister learned the ninja ways--somehow--for the same reason--in America. Kimberly-chan and yourself began to do missions, to oppose evil men. And unknown to both of us, the Lionheart and his sister did missions. The partner of Kimberly-chan--yourself--learned the ways of the ninja at Yamanuchi. And my old friend--the son of the Dr. Possible-chan's friend--sought to join himself as a fellow ninja to the Dr. Possible-chan's daughter. My heart stirred within me when I learned that the exchange student to Yamanuchi was coming from Middleton--Stoppable-san, the partner of Kim Possible-chan. And when I learned that the friends of my childhood now missions with Possible-chan and her partner--well, you can guess, my Ron-san, how I marveled at the Divine Wisdom that guided us all--how our paths should cross."

Ron shook his head. "Wow. Rich would say, truth is stranger than fiction. If it's written down somewhere, the dude is certain to remember it."

Their driver spoke. "Kansumi-chan and Stoppable-san--we approach our destination. I must tell you of your mission."

"Okay," said Ron.

"Tokyo is full of gangs--some call themselves 'Ninja'." There are two gangs in the municipal district we are traveling to. One is called the 'Yama's' and the other the 'Nuchi's'. The boss of each gang calls himself the 'Lotus Master'. Much blood has been shed and much life lost in their rivalry--both their members and the innocents in the crossfire. The Chief of Police of this municipal district of Tokyo is a graduate of Yamanuchi."

They met Chief Yato-san

"I greet you, Stoppable-san," and more quietly, "Lotus Master. I graduated from Yamanuchi before your arrival. But the tales of your exploits--both as a member of Team Possible and the Bearer of the Blade--have resounded the length and breadth of the land."

"Wow. Sounds like I'm more familiar than Yamanuchi," said Ron amazed.

It is true," said Yato-san. "Through the centuries, we have been committed to keeping the secret of Yamanuchi. But since the time of Toshimiru, the name of the Lotus Warrior has been synonymous with the cause of justice for the defenseless and the oppressed. It has been a beacon of hope. Ninja are cloaked in secrecy. It is second nature to them. But the Lotus Master--whispers of a champion cannot be suppressed. They endure. And the tales grow in the telling down through the centuries. This is your heritage, Stoppable-san--both your privilege and your duty--the responsibility you must bear."

Yoriko watched the effect of Chief Yato's words on Ron. The wisdom in his eyes and the gravity in his face seemed to increase by the moment. _The deeds of the Lotus Master will outlast us. For ages to come they will be remembered. How blessed to be the consort of such a one--whoever the karma ordains._

Yato-san showed them a couple rap sheets. "These are the rival leaders. Omi and Yabu. They hate each other and have tried almost daily to assassinate each other. Poisoned food and drink, hit men, car bombs--they are turning this part of Tokyo into a war zone. It is like Bagdad--or Beirut--or Mogadishu. We have been powerless to stop them. They sniff out our undercover agents and informants. Even with my training as a ninja, we are not sufficient. It is as though they have supernatural assistance. And so in my desperation, I have called upon Sensei--and he has sent you both. Your coming is ordained, Stoppable-san. Heaven sends you."

Yoriko quite agreed.

"Uh, Chief-san, I have to ask. The names of the two gangs--Yama and Nuchi. Like in imitation of you-know-what. And the name 'Lotus Master' that these two yahoos are each claiming. It sounds a little too close to be coincidence."

"That also is part of your mission, my friends. To learn why this rabble has chosen names so significant to us. Accident or purpose. And who has told them what. And now, to infiltrate the street gang culture, you must look like you belong," the chief said.

They rummaged among items of clothing from the evidence room and the undercover unit lockers.

"We can take you both in an unmarked car to the area of the district where most of the gang warfare takes place," said Chief Yato.

"With your permission, Yato-san, Stoppable-san and I will go on foot," said Yoriko. "If the gangs are as alert as you say, it will be less noticeable."

Yoriko and Ron made their farewells and furtively left the police station. They were both dressed as office workers, to look like commuters. As they approached the gang turf, they changed to the other clothing in an abandoned building.

Ron appeared in torn jeans, black muscle shirt, and bike chain across his shoulder, red wraparound glasses. His hair was moussed in a Mohawk.

Yoriko was dressed in a red crop top, pleated black skirt, black fishnet stockings, and black lace gloves. Her jet black hair was under a wig of long red hair parted down the middle--not natural red like Kim's--scarlet red, as red as the crop tip. She tried to pull her crop top down. "No doubt Possible-chan is accustomed to wearing such a revealing garment. **I** am not. I feel as though I resemble a slut."

Ron glanced at her. She caught his glance and glared at him. He looked up and whistled an aimless tune.

"Your silence is very telling, Stoppable-san."

"Me? Nah, I just can't help admiring how well you wear such a--revealing garment," he said.

She fumed. "If you dare leer at me, I can apply a nerve pinch that will make your eyes cross and your tongue drool."

"C'mon, Yori, you know I respect you."

She sighed. "I know. I was trying to ease my own embarrassment. You are the most upright man I know--next to Sensei."

"C'mon, you can't mean **all **the guys at school?"

"Oh, yes. The boys will simply stare at me with their tongues lolling out when they first come to Yamanuchi."

Ron nudged her. "Ya know, Yori--it's hardly their fault--somebody as beautiful as you."

Yoriko turned as red as her wig. "Is it your intent to cause me to blush for the entire year you are here, my Ron-san?"

"Every day, if I can help it." Ron couldn't help but notice her flashing smile and shy downward glance every time he embarrassed her. It was cute--endearing. It was actually very alluring.

It was also something Kim rarely did. Her personality was too assertive. There was one person, though, who could do to Kim what Ron did to Yoriko. That person was Rich. And it made Ron begin to ponder--how did he love Yori? And how did Rich love Kim? And if it was what Ron was afraid it was--deep in the heart of both himself and his friend Richard Leo Harte, how much temptation was there to act on those feelings?

He changed the topic of conversation. "Y'know, I was doing some reading in Sensei's library. The Ninja were originally spies and assassins, hired by the Daimyo to do the dirty work--so the samurai wouldn't do because of their honor. Even the female ninjas would disguise themselves as prostitutes."

Again Yoriko sighed. "It is true. Sensei often points out the hypocrisy of human nature. If someone's conscience will not let them do evil, they simply find someone else with no conscience and pay them to do evil. To be a ninja is to be associated with a shameful history. Our Sensei has done much to elevate the reputation of the ninjitsu by his rigorous emphasis on ethical standards. Even the exploits of Team Possible, my Ron-san, have lifted up the esteem in which ninja are held."

Ron nodded--and suddenly was aware of the gathering crowd around them. "Yori--."

"Yes, my Ron-san. I see. They have taken the bait. The Compassionate Buddha grant that they will be caught in the trap and not us."

The rough-looking crowd was in a rough mood. Dressed in leather with studs, chains, bare-armed, some bare-chested, scars on chests and faces, grumbling and cursing--and completely surrounding Ron and Yori.

"Get behind me, Yori. Let's cover each other's backs."

"May Hachiman strengthen us, Ron-san"

Ron balled his fists and cracked his knuckles. "Yeah--whoever. These guys look like the 'Yama's', from the description Chief Yato gave us."

Slowly Yoriko drew her fans and unfolded them.

A broad-chested man, a head shorter than Ron, burst out laughing. "What the hell is going on? Geisha Kung-Fu?"

"You tell them, Omi," said one of the others

Omi turned and shouted. "Shut up! I'll do the talking!" And he turned back to face Yoriko. "You're in our house, now, sister--not the tea house!"

Ron raised his voice. "I'm looking for the Balebos of this pathetic outfit."

Omi looked confused. "Balebos? What the f**k is that?"

Someone behind Omi whispered. "It's Yiddish, boss. It means 'boss'."

Omi snarled. "Hah! A Jew boy! Lost your way to the synagogue, freak?" He grinned evilly. "C'mon, dickheads, I made a joke! Somebody laugh!"

And there was a weak laughter.

"I came from the Nuchi's!" said Ron loudly. "The Lotus Master sent me!"

Omi exploded. "**I'm** Lotus Master, you stupid f**k!"

Ron threw his head back and laughed derisively. "You? Hah! Looks like some Feygele to me! You might wear a lotus behind your ear, but lead this bunch of bandits? Puh-leeze! I might be some Greener, but I know a boss when I see one!"

Omi leaned back and asked the one who spoke earlier. "Hey, Brainiac! What's a Feygele?"

The other hesitated.

Omi grumbled. "Ya got sh*t for brains? What's it mean?"

"Uh--it means 'fag'--b-boss!"

Omi exploded again. "**Fag?** I'll fag **you**, dog dick! And your chick, too!"

"My Ron-san," said Yoriko quietly, "You have a plan, do you not? A plan that will result in their defeat and not ours? They do not seem to appreciate your American-style humor."

Ron reached back and squeezed Yoriko's elbow. "Don't worry, Yori. We'll get our training regimen. And it gats worse--I promise you, I'll make sure you survive."

Yoriko's heart was bittersweet. Stoppable-san, the Lotus Master, had given his word. If it meant his life--and the life of everyone of their opponents--and he was perfectly capable of it, if he unleashed his Mystical Monkey Power and summoned the Lotus Blade--she would survive today.

Guns were drawn and cocked.

"Put them away!" Omi shouted. "We are going to make these f**ks suffer!"

The guns were put away. The blades, chains, nunchucks, and chains were drawn.

The circle surged in on the two. Weapons were twirling. Yoriko and Ron moved in a clockwise circle. Yoriko's fans slashed. Ron's fists and feet swung and jabbed. Knees, guts, chins, faces--and throats and groins, in need be--were their targets. They moved like automatons. Without turning their heads, they perceived everything within the 180 degrees of vision.

The Yama's fell like bowling pins. After twenty-five were down, the rest broke and ran--Omi among them.

"Yori--let's go!" said Ron. "After Omi!"

They stumbled over the bodies.

Yoriko stole a glance at Ron's face. "Ron-san? You suspect something!"

Omi reached a car. He turned the key, gunned the motor, and peeled out, tires squealing.

"Just a hunch, Yori!" said Ron as they ran after Omi. "I'm thinking these two rivals are really friends--and they're playing off all sides!"

A Yama was leaving on a motorcycle.

In this part of the city, there was debris on the streets--bricks, stones, car parts.

Ron scooped up half a brick and flung it at the Yama.

It glanced off the Yama's shoulder. He dropped like a tree and slid to a stop on the pavement, the motorcycle stalling out.

Ron picked up the motorcycle, swung his leg over, and revved it. Yoriko clambered on behind him and threw her arms around his waist. They did a slight wheelie and were off like a rocket.

Ron's head and heart raced. _Damn, but I love this! It's like havin' Kim with me! 'Cept I can't make it with Yori when we're done!_

Yoriko's head and heart raced. _Oh, Compassionate Buddha--You teach us to detach ourselves from our baser feelings--but this fierce joy I feel! Surely it is a good thing to subdue such folk as this--to intoxicate ourselves with the presence of a Beloved while we protect the Land of the Gods and its people--as the Samurai used to do! Surely this is the will of Hachiman!_

Yoriko hugged Ron hard around his waist. And at that moment, Ron felt an absolute hunger for her.

_Holy shit! Must be a combo-adrenalin-testosterone rush--wantin' to bone Yori! Get your head on straight, Stoppable! Think Kim! Kim Kim Kim!_

Omi felt the Hound of Hell closing in behind him. _WTF! Who are these two? This guy--the Jew-boy! Is he the one they told us about? Fukushima told us! He said his man would let us know when this guy was coming. They promised us we would get some warning!_ He made turn after turn, his tires squealing. _Please, God--let me get to Yabu in time. Let me die in bed!_

Omi slammed on the brakes. The car slid into the side of a building.

Men from the building across the street poured out, aiming automatic weapons.

Omi held his arms out the driver's side window. "No! I got no piece! I got to see Yabu!"

The men drew closer, cocking their weapons.

Omi screamed, panic-stricken. "**Tell Yabu! **He's coming! The Guy! **He's coming**!"

A man ran back inside the building. Other men yanked open the car door and pulled Omi out. "Get out, you piece of crud!"

A bald bear of a man with missing teeth ran out of the building. "Omi! What the hell!" He grabbed Omi by the lapels. "What's going on?"

Omi trembled. "He's coming! He and some chick! They took us apart!"

"Can't be!" said Yabu. "Must be some undercover pair!"

Omi babbled. "Undercover? You stoop! You idiot! If they were undercover, they would've never found us!"

The motorcycle bulleted into the section of street. Ron headed straight for the group of men.

Yoriko backflipped off the cycle. Then Ron did likewise. The cycle tipped over and slid into the group, knocking some over.

The remaining men opened fire, spraying with bullets. Ron and Yoriko cartwheeled ahead of the stream of bullets. Then they dropped behind a parked car.

"Waste their asses!" ordered Yabu.

The men approached carefully, firing sporadically. They peered around the car. "Hey! They're gone!"

"What?" shouted Yabu. "You guys are stoned! Look under the car! Look in the building! They must have slipped in!"

A hurtling form broke through the car's windshield. Another form broke through the rear window. They leapt from man to man like a striking snake. Faster than the eye could follow, they kicked with foot and chopped with hand. All Yabu's men were down.

"I told you!" screamed Omi. "I told you!"

More men appeared at the door of Yabu's building.

"F**king shit-heads!" grumbled Yabu. He drew a gun and fired.

Yoriko collapsed.

"Yori!" screamed Ron.

"The rest of you--get out here!" yelled Yabu. And more men appeared

Some men had guns. Some had katana, chains, and switchblades. One had a machete.

Ron extended his hand. The machete flew from the Nuchi's hand into Ron's.

Ron held up the sword. It began to glow blue.

The blue glow spread to surround Yoriko and Ron.

The Nuchi's fired at them.

The bullets recoiled off the blue glow. A shimmering blue wave emanated from Yoriko and Ron.

Every Nuchi was knocked flat.

Ron approached Yabu and Omi with the sword leveled at them. "Give it up, Lotus Masters."

Omi babbled. "Yabu! He's the real deal! Fukushima told us he wouldn't come--!"

Yabu cuffed Omi. "Lamebrain! Shut your f**king face!"

Ron perked up his ears. "What was that name, dipwad?"

Yabu raised his hands. "We don't know squat, Mousse-head! We want a lawyer!"

Ron called out over his shoulder. "Yori? You okay?"

"Yes, my Ron-san. He only shot the heel off my shoe."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank you, Lord._ "Lucky for you, fella," he said grimly to Yabu.

Omi wept and groveled. "He reassured us! We'd be safe. You wouldn't appear!"

Ron smiled crookedly. "Dude. Get a clue. Here's some free advice. Don't trust Fukushima--now or ever."

In a posh apartment, in a luxury Tokyo high-rise, a sour-faced young man with a topknot in his hair took a phone call.

"Fukushima-san," a voice said.

"Yes, Yabu," the sour-faced man answered.

"I am most sorry, Fukushima-san. We were captured--two appeared--as you said they would. The man was an American--Jewish. He wielded a mystical power. He made a sword shine with blue light. The woman fought with--fans. And she slashed through fabric as though they were razor-sharp."

"Where are you now, Yabu?"

"the attorney you sent was somehow able to obtain our release. I am calling you on the cell phone he gave me."

"Very good, Yabu. The call will be untraceable."

"Fukushima-san--I have dishonored myself."

"It is of no importance, Yabu. You were meant to be a lure. You have drawn out the true Lotus Master."

"I am your poor servant, Fukushima-san. But--."

"Yes, Yabu?"

There is more--Omi has revealed you. He blurted out your name in the man's hearing. What are your orders?"

Fukushima frowned. "Nothing for the moment, Yabu. But you may have to do what is necessary to satisfy honor--both his life and yours. Do you understand?"

There was a long moment of silence and just the slightest quiver in Yabu's voice. "I understand, Fukushima-san. Say the word and it is done."

"I will speak with you later, Yabu." The sour-faced man hung up the telephone and then punched a number on the keypad.

A suave Spanish accented voice answered. "Yes, Fukushima-san, my friend."

"It is as you predicted, Señor Patrón. Stoppable-san has appeared. He and Kansumi-chan have captured the two pawns."

The voice sounded pleased."Very good. Our plan proceeds on schedule."

Señor Patrón--" said Fukushima cautiously.

"Yes, Fukushima-san."

"Omi unthinkingly divulged my name to Stoppable-san. I know your preparations are most thorough, my Patrón, but your unworthy servant would neglect his duty if he did not express his concern. 'Even an iron shield may have a loose rivet,' my former master, the Sensei of Yamanuchi, used to say."

"It does not matter. If you deem it prudent to silence Omi so that other loose-lipped _idiotes_ will learn fearful caution, I will not fault your decision. Your former Sensei is quite correct. A shame he did not appreciate your attributes--as I do. His neglect will cost him. We will pound the loose rivet--and we will thank your Sensei when you stand over his body."

"Yes, Señor Patrón."

It was at the prefect station that Ron and Yoriko changed out of their gang-banger clothes. Yoriko breathed a sigh of relief. The wig was itchy. The bare midriff was too compromising. She shook out her hair and tightened the sash of her suit--and wondered. _I have committed myself to the Path. I will not stoop to revealing myself like a sex trade girl_. But to wean Ron-san from his attachment to Possible-Chan--how devious was Yoriko willing to be?

They were holding a conference call with Sensei. The phone was on loudspeaker. The transmission was encrypted. And they exercised the ninja talents--quiet voices and sharp ears. No sound of their conversation could be heard beyond the walls.

"Sensei," said Ron, "One of these two Lotus Master wannabe's let it slip. Fukushima's name. Now we know why those two gangs were so good."

"Yes. Omi blurted out the name of Fukushima, Sensei-sama," said Yoriko. "This is both enlightening and troubling. We can see why the two gangs were so elusive. They had the same training as us. The traitor has revealed himself--but he has taken the trouble to set up this whole appearance. It seems that it was intended that Yato-san should be forced to call upon the real Yamanuchi for assistance."

"I am most ashamed, my master," said Yato. "I swallowed the bait like a fish. I should have been more discreet."

"Me, too, Sensei," said Ron apologetically. "I got all concerned when I thought Yori was shot. I used the Mystical Monkey Power. At least I had the smarts not to call the real Lotus Blade. But what I did was as good as turning on a big neon sign. 'Lotus Master here. Direct from Yamanuchi. Step right up and see him levitate objects'."

"You are all too harsh on yourselves," said Sensei's voice. "Fukushima is as sly as a ferret. The wicked are better at slyness than the righteous. I would rather have you righteous than sly. Stoppable-san has revealed himself to Fukushima. That was part of Fukushima's plan. He expected you to come. Doubtless he is in league with Monkey Fist--or some other evil-doer who has the ability to sense Stoppable-san's presence. What matters is that Fukushima has revealed himself--and we may safely assume that he has an unseen guide. In this game of strategy and covert knowledge, the odds are in our favor. We can expect further moves in the future. We must simply exercise greater vigilance. And now, Yato-san--you have not disappointed me. You have learned well the lessons I have taught you. And my son Stoppable-san and daughter Kansumi-chan--return like birds to your roost."

On the car ride back to Yamanuchi, Ron kept a protective arm around Yoriko's shoulder. "That bullet almost had your name on it, Yori. If you had died, I dunno how I would'a dealt with it."

"That is one of the risks we must accept, my Ron-san. We have chosen to battle the evil-doers. Causalities must be expected." But she (snuggled ) under Ron's arm. "Again you have saved me with your American-style heroism, Ron-san, as you did when Monkey Fist captured me. I thank the Compassionate Buddha who has seen fit to blend our two karmas on the same Path."

They scaled the steep path up to the waterfall as swiftly as darting mice. "C'mon, Yori--race you to the top!" taunted Ron.

"This is not fair, Ron-san," said Yoriko breathlessly. "Those shoes I wore were more appropriate for a nightclub girl than a ninja. My feet hurt."

"Ah," said Ron laughingly. "Just like a woman." And he scooped her up in his arms."

Yoriko squealed a little when he snatched her up. And she managed to shift herself so she was riding piggy-back. But she marveled. His pace did not slacken as he raced up the mountainside. She could feel the hardness of his shoulders as she curled her arms around his neck.

Ron was feeling the same thing he felt when Yoriko rode behind him on the motorcycle. Her arms and legs were curled around him. She was not meaning to entice him, but it was having that effect.

The Ronunicator was blinking when Ron arrived to his quarters.

"There's an e-mail--From K.P.!"

Yoriko's heart tightened.

It was a picture of Kim in a bikini—and a note.

Yoriko's mouth tightened. The indecent little tramp--immodestly showing her navel!

Dear Ron-dog,

I miss my daily Ron-shine. But I thought I would send you some Kim-shine. Can't wait to wear this when I come to visit you! Then you can wrap me in your arms to keep me warm up there in the snows!

P.S. Say hi to Yori!

"Say hi to Yori"?" Who was fooling whom? It was cold war between these two! _Oh, Compassionate Buddha,_ Yoriko prayed, _open Stoppable-san's eyes! Oh God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Let not my Ron-san be snared by the red-haired green-eyed spider!_

At supper, Yoriko and Ron sat together.

Hirotaka approached them. "Prefect Yato has sent word. Both Omi and Yabu were set free. Someone posted their bail. And no one noticed that they were being held on serious charges. An 'administrative oversight'.

Ron's lip curled. "Yeah--we got those in America, too."

Hirotaka continued. "Their bodies were found not two hours later outside the Nuchi gang house. It appeared that they killed each other."

"I'm sure," said Ron, "And sushi is made of kosher pork."

"I think I understand your American-style sarcasm, Ron-san," said Yoriko, "And I must agree. It is another ruse."

"Sensei has ordered me to alert our network of graduates and operatives." said Hirotaka. "They will look carefully for Fukushima--and his ally."

It was after supper that night that Yoriko approached Ron. "Would you consent to come with me, Ron-san?"

Yoriko led Ron on the narrow mountain trail. At some points, the mountainside was a sheer rise on one side and a sheer drop on the other side. She went first on the path and held his hand as he followed her. In her other hand she carried a lantern.

There was a saying in Colorado--and Ron had heard that it applied to other mountain areas. After sunset, night fell like a stone. In flatlands, dusk might last for almost an hour, but in the deep valleys, it was a matter of minutes. In the deep valley at the foot of Mount Yamanuchi, there was the glimmer of lights from the small village.

Ron gazed out on the scene. "It's beautiful, Yori."

"It is the village of Kenjijen, my birthplace. Here I grew up, with the children of Leo Harte-sama: Daphne-chan and Richard-san--whom you call 'brother--and whom ninja everywhere call the 'Lionheart'.

"Has your family always lived here, Yori?"

"As far back as we can trace--back to the founding of Yamanuchi--except for brief times when the sons were called away by duty or left to make their fortune. My grandfather Ichiro Kansumi-san served as an ensign in the Imperial Navy during the Second World War. After the war's end, he returned to the home of his youth and married. They had several sons and daughters."

Yoriko continued. "It was in those days that a Christian teacher came to Kenjijen. No one remembers his name. Your American general, Douglas Macarthur, governed our country following the war, during the American occupation. He sent for many teachers to come from your country. Some to teach your language, some to teach American-style ways of employment, and some to teach American-style religion."

"Hmm," said Ron. "I think I know where this is going."

"My father Akiro Kansumi-san became a Christian. This created a rift between him and his father, a devout Shinto. He attended a seminary in Manila, the Philippines. He met and fell in love with another student, Katrina Mercador. They wed. They settled here in the village where my family has lived for generations. But he wished to bring the light of Christ to the people here, so he founded a church. He wrote to a missionary society, asking them to someone to come and help him in his work."

"And Leo and Mariah Bess Harte came."

"Yes. My father has proven a powerful preacher. Many in Kenjijen have embraced the Lord Christ."

"And somewhere around this time is when Kenjijen's cutest girl is born," said Ron teasingly.

Yoriko giggled. "Stoppable-san. If I did not enjoy hearing you compliment me so much, I would make your training regimen twice as rigorous for such shameless flirtation."

Ron began to wonder if he might be overdoing it just a little. "And Daphne and Rich were born, too. But don't let me interrupt your story, Yori. I think you were about to tell me that your parents tried to raise you as a Christian."

Yoriko sighed. "How could it be otherwise, Ron-san? What parent does not hope their child will embrace their beliefs? Otherwise, how could any society or nation hope to endure? Yes, my father oversaw my education. If anything, this grieved my grandfather more than my father becoming a Christian."

"Did he try to interfere?" asked Ron.

"Not directly," said Yoriko. "But in the stories he told to us--the Harte children and myself--he included many of the old legends of our land--tales of the gods and heroes."

"Which explains why Rich is so into mythology."

"Yes. He ate and drank of the old stories like a starving man eating bread and drinking water. And it did not compromise his Christian faith. But with me, it gave me a hunger to know the old ways of my people."

"And your father wasn't too happy with that."

"No. Furthermore, my grandfather and Sensei were old friends, though I do not know how they knew each other. He was determined that I attend Yamanuchi."

"Daphne and Rich learned how to be ninjas. Why didn't their parents object?"

"My father felt the weight of our national heritage and religion. Hardly ten percent of Nipponese are Christian. He wanted his family to be an example, and I bore the stigma of the daughter of the presiding church elder. He was especially worried that the ninja training would draw my heart away from the Christian faith. They did not argue violently--but there was great resentment between them for several years."

"I see you're a Yamanuchi student--how'd it finally work out?"

"My mother prevailed on my father. She reminded him what the Christian apostle St. Paul wrote. 'Parents, do not provoke your children.' She convinced him that it I were forced to believe in the Lord Christ, then it would not be a true belief of the heart, but only a sham. So my father gave me leave to do what I wanted. And I applied to attend Yamanuchi. And the rift between them only widened."

"Wow," said Ron sadly. "Sounds heavy."

"It breaks my heart. In so many ways they are the same--men of integrity, honor, and generosity. If the earth were populated with such men, we would have no need for a Lotus Master--and no need for temples or churches. Every person's heart would be a sanctuary to God."

Ron remembered the teaching of the Jewish prophet Jeremiah.

But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel. After those days, says the LORD, I will put My law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts I will be their God, and they shall be My people. 

And they shall teach no more every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, "Know the LORD." For they shall all know Me, from the least of them unto the greatest of them, says the LORD: for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.

"Yeah. We can hope. Someday. "We should go, Yori."

"Stay but a moment, Stoppable-san. It is almost the hour. Look carefully, down there."

The dim outline of a church steeple could be seen. Out of the house next to it came a moving dot of light.

"That is my grandfather. Each night he goes out side to light a candle in the little booth--a shrine to Hachiman, the god of war"

"Every night? How come?"

"I was born at this very hour of the night. Grandfather lit a candle to the gods every night since my birth, as a prayer for my admission to Yamanuchi."

"Every night?"

"Without fail. In all weather, heat, cold, and rain."

"Wow. Must've worked. What does your dad say?"

"It is another point of contention between them, but my father will not dishonor his father by opposing him."

"Where I come from," said Ron, "Most kids--or spouses--would move out--or have the parent move out--when there's a really serious disagreement over religion."

"In my family, Ron-san, such a thing would be unthinkable. In this my father and grandfather both adhere to the old ways. Respect, especially of an elder, is paramount. To dishonor an elder is to blaspheme God--or the gods. I myself was torn between both their wishes. But because my grandfather is our living eldest, and because I had already confessed the Lord Buddha instead of the Lord Christ, my father at last relented."

"So you're a Yamanuchi student. Booyah for that." Ron nudged Yoriko. "Makes coming here more fun when there's someone as cute as you." He could not see her face in the dark, but he was sure she was blushing.

"Again you make me blush, Ron-san," said Yoriko with a little laugh. "I must make your training more rigorous--so you will learn not to take so much delight in embarrassing me."

"That's so gonna take a lot of training, Yori."

Yori waved her lantern back and forth a few times. The lantern in the valley waved back and forth in response. "My grandfather," she said with love in her voice. "There is no man I respect more--not even Sensei."

"I'd like to meet him, sometime, Yori. He sounds like quite a guy. And the rest of your family, too."

"Yes--the gods willing." _The gods willing--he would meet her family--and ask her father's permission to marry her--in due time._ "We should be going back now."

"Sounds good. Let's hit the homeward trail."

At the mention of the word "homeward", Yoriko's heart did flip-flops again. The thought of her and Ron-san calling the same place "home"... _Yoriko Kansumi, _she chided herself. _You must practice the self-discipline. Your fantasizing distracts you. It will break your heart!_

But on the return trail, Ron-san did not walk behind or in front of her. They walked side by side, and he walked on the outside of the trail, where it dropped away. And where the trail narrowed, he put his arm around her waist, holding her close. And she put her arm around his waist, bidding her mind to be silent, and letting her heart drink of the closeness of his presence.

At Yamanuchi, Ron walked Yoriko to her room. "A gentleman always escorts a lady home. And thanks for showing me the view. It was really badical."

They hugged. She smiled as she said, "Good night, my Ron-san."

And Ron smiled. "Yeah. Training in the morning. See ya."

She slid the panel shut behind her, knelt, and lit her candle.

_Compassionate Buddha,_ she prayed, _open his eyes that he may see the Path. Oh gracious Lord Adonai, God of the Stoppable-san, and God of his fathers, I am not of Your Chosen People. Yet I humbly ask that my plea might reach Your Ear. May this unworthy one find grace in Your Sight. I bind myself to whatever trial You would see fit to lay upon me, if only that most noble warrior would find his heart drawn to his true home--and to the one who truly loves him._

Yoriko actually realized with shock that she would gladly convert to Judaism. And why not? The Compassionate Buddha never claimed to be the Almighty Deity, Whose Name His Chosen People of the House of Israel refrained from speaking out of awe. They said that from this Deity preceded all light, understanding, truth, and goodness. Before her stood the living embodiment of goodness. He was the Chosen of this generation, the Destined of this age to bear the Blade. And none but the pure of heart could wield the Lotus Blade, it was taught. No greater honor could befall a woman than to be his consort. But she must practice what the Buddha taught: un-attachment; not to want, hope or desire. Her motives must be pure. The gods had a way of denying the dreams of those who desired too strongly.

_**And somewhere in the world**_, a buxom woman wearing a lab coat and large glasses sat down at a desk with a dapper-dressed man. "Now, Mr. Oakes, I'll be working closely with you over the next year. I'll be administering a series of injections, half gene therapy and half synthetic hormone. We'll be performing a number of surgeries, bone, muscle, and skin grafts. I **must** tell you ahead of ahead of time, parts of it will be very painful. We'll also be putting you through a regimen of physical therapy, so your new body parts will maintain their muscle tone. Oh, it's such a shame. I'm a geneticist, you see, not a surgeon."

"Don't sweat it, Dr. Hall. I have complete faith in you," said Jackie Oakes.

"If only I had my genetic zipper," lamented Dr. Amy Hall. "Or if only you hadn't lost that Egyptian medallion. Then your transformation could be completed in moments, instead of months. It's that girl's fault--Kim Possible--that little meanie! And her obnoxious boyfriend. And that annoying little pink buck-toothed rodent! I **do** with they hadn't changed him back." She glanced over at her husband. "Monty, don't you agree? We would all be better off if Kim Possible and her entire Team could be turned into a bunch of harmless Cuddlebuddies. Including those two upstarts--the twin brother and sister."

"Yes, dear," he said absently. Montgomery Fiske brooded. He was a titled English nobleman, a member of the House of Lords, the tenth Earl of Westchesterwick. The American was gaudy and cheap. He passed himself off as an athlete and a high-powered promoter of athletic events. He was an announcer at pro wrestling matches. He imagined himself a master criminal. He dealt in stolen museum artifacts. He had a gift for empty flattery. And he knew how completely turn the head of Monty's wife--Dr. Hall, Lady Fiske, Dame of Westchesterwick--or DNAmy, as she was known to the law enforcement agencies of the world.

"Please, Dr. Hall," said Jackie Oakes, "Don't distress yourself. Life has taught me to be philosophical. We cope. We can be winners in spirit. Wouldn't you agree, your Lordship?"

" 'Mister Fiske' or 'Professor Fiske' will suffice, Mr. Oakes," said Monty Fiske glumly. Was that a gold tooth he saw when that the man smiled? His very skin looked oily. Slippery smarmy blighter.

Fiske had promised himself that he would retire from his quest for power--he would content himself with his scholarly pursuits, and allow his wife to conduct harmless research. He cursed the day an old acquaintance walked into their lives with an offer.

Fiske thought he detested Kim Possible and her boyfriend more than anyone in the world. He found someone he despised even more.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


End file.
